The Lion's Share
by Apostitute
Summary: Their well-oiled rapport unexpectedly torn asunder, Inquisitor Trevelyan and the Marshall of her military might attempt to pick up the pieces along the way.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: These are my own head canons and as a result, are likely to end up being rather AU post Inquisition's release. I'm havin' fun... just roll with it. **

**All characters and locations are the property of Bioware; I'm here to provide David Gaider with more tears.**

/+++/

"My lady Inquisitor?"

Isabeau Trevelyan wearily raised her eyes from their gaze upon the map stretched beneath her. Ever the poor sleeper, she had paced agitatedly in her quarters for some time before finally deciding to walk the familiar halls back to the war room. She had lost track of time scrutinizing her current troop movements and secured Keeps, straining to determine her next course of action for the powers she now commanded.

She slowly ground the heels of her hands into her heavy eyelids, blearily focusing on the stunning Antivan diplomat before her. _Too many late nights; she's here to chastise you again. _

"Josephine, is something the matter?"

The raven haired woman graciously bowed before striding towards the expansive table, "If you would follow me Inquisitor, I believe it more prudent to show you than waste time with explanations."

Isabeau sceptically quirked an eyebrow but dipped her head in assent all the same, swiftly rounding the corner of the table before following Josephine's brisk strides out into the halls of Skyhold. The towering window arches revealed a clear skied night, the mountains and their snow-caps illuminated by the full moon. Since arriving at Skyhold, Isabeau had taken great joy in walking the keep's soaring walls and long corridors. The windows of her own bedchamber looked out upon a great waterfall, its steady but muted roar having soothed her to sleep some nights. At the end of the hallway, Josephine extended a hand before her, directing the Inquisitor towards the stairs which lead to the keep's private bed chambers. Isabeau's own quarters were only a few doors down and to the left of the stairs, but it was to the right which Josephine led her.

At the door to her military advisor's solar the pair had come to a stop, the young diplomat standing dutifully at the threshold as Isabeau entered. There was a soft creaking behind her as the door was gently closed, Isabeau finding herself now alone in Cullen's solar. The fire to her right was burned down to glowing embers, two over-stuffed leather arm chairs facing the hearth. A pile of parchments sat precariously atop a nearby footstool.

"Ah, it is good of you to have come, Inquisitor. My apologies for the late disturbance," Solas appeared from behind a pair of double doors, crossing his arms over his chest, a rueful smirk troubling his lips, "At least the disturbance was not to your sleep."

"It is no trouble Solas – by now my routine is hardly a secret," Isabeau strode over to the hedge mage, following him as he turned and made his way through the double doors into Cullen's cabinet. "That being said… why _am_ I finding myself in my advisors quarters at such an hour? Josephine seemed… vexed."

"Indeed, I sent her to you. Ser Cullen is… unwell."

The pair approached the rather impressive bed along the far side of the room, Isabeau absently admiring the bold, red drapes that hung upon the intricately carved tester. Truth be told, she had never entered any of her companions quarters, more than oft entertaining visitors she may have either in the great hall or the solar of her own apartments. There were several rather tall bookcases lining the walls and on either side of the hearth, most of which were tidily stocked though she could not help but notice many were not; scraps of vellum and parchment had been haphazardly filed amongst the tomes and assorted trinkets. An armor stand caught her eye in the corner and Isabeau slowly stepped before it, her hands moving on their own accord. She appreciatively ran her fingers through the soft fur of Cullen's mantle, her eyes scanning the contours of his impressive helm.

She turned to face Solas, embarrassed at her impulsivity, "Define unwell..."

"I'm sure you're well aware of certain… limitations Templars must contend with?" Solas asked pointedly as he stood at the foot of the bed, Cullen's large form lying before them. Isabeau winced as she took in the sweat soaked man, the sheets of his bedding were twisted around his form; his coverlet's long since kicked to the floor. At the sight of the viciously dark circles discoloring the man's eyes, her hands gripped the edges of the bed frame so hard her knuckles went white.

"I am aware Solas. What I was _not_ aware of was any Lyrium shortages amongst our supply lines. Let alone within Skyhold itself."

Solas raised a hand to cup his chin between his thumb and index finger, his brows furrowing. "That's because there are no shortages. We have enough Lyrium stores now to see us through a siege six months long."

_Not a chance._ Cullen was always one of the last to retire for the evening from the war room and this night had not been any different. Was it possible she had been so consumed to have missed any signs of fatigue or distress? Isabeau rounded on Solas, tearing her eyes from Cullen's sweaty and distorted face, "I _need_ Cullen at optimum capacity, and he hardly strikes me as the type to jeopardize his _and_ my responsibilities casually."

"Agreed. It is… most peculiar behavior for Ser Cullen."

"Then let us give him some Lyrium and be done with it," Isabeau didn't want to be callous but her urgency to return Cullen to some semblance of stability was leaving her words harried and curt. There was an uncomfortable tightness settling in her chest that she wasn't keen on examining too closely as she looked upon her Marshall. In the time since Cassandra had found her listlessly wandering the ruins deep in the Frostbacks, Isabeau's entire existence had been torn asunder. Since becoming acquainted with the stoic templar, combined with their days and nights shared analyzing strategy, Cullen had become somewhat of a beacon of stability. There was an honesty to the knight that Isabeau had found refreshing, a blessed temperance that had rescued her from the worst of Cassandra's verbal onslaughts in the early days of the Inquisition. Cullen's candor could occasionally borderline boorish, sometimes to the chagrin of his fellow advisors, but Isabeau's resume was warfare and it usually had her agreeing with him.

_Yes, that's _entirely _your reasoning. _

She scoffed at her own bitter musings and raised her piercing eyes to her Elvhen companion, her stormy grey orbs meeting his hooded hazel, "You seem reticent Solas. I would have you speak your mind, if you would be so willing," she said as she slowly made her way around the end of the bed, her fingertips gliding over the damp and wrinkled sheets before pausing at Cullen's own callused digits. They twitched restlessly before her, his whole body jerking at random as muffled whimpers escaped his twisted lips.

"_Surely_ a dose of Lyrium would have been my first course of action," Solas sardonically drawled as he pulled an empty bottle from a pouch secured to his hip, holding it up to show the blue remnants at the bottom of the glass. Isabeau silently cursed as her eyes trailed over Cullen's clammy skin, watching as beads of sweat heatedly cascaded over the contours of his muscles. Biting her lip, she reached for the wash basin and wrung out the soaked cloth before turning to press it to Cullen's feverish forehead.

Solas came to stand at the Inquisitor's side, his own hand reaching down to feel the pulse at Cullen's neck. "I remained to watch and ensure Cullen stabilized. When my wait was not satisfied with results, I sent for you. Lucky me - lucky Cullen, that Josephine seems to share your schedule. Perhaps this is self-inflicted… perhaps not?"

Isabeau gave Cullen's large, clammy hand a squeeze. "Speak to me plainly Solas."

"If I were to hazard a guess, its likely Ser Cullen was gradually weening himself to lower dosages of the substance. It is possible tonight was… a misjudgment of his bodies readiness to be purged completely. I have exhausted most of my options available to wake him," he paused and crossed his arms again, his face darkening as the light from the hearth shadowed his face, "I believe Cullen is in a form of withdrawal-induced coma… and a coma is but another form of sleep."

She narrowed her eyes in apprehension. "You would have us enter the Fade."

It was not a question.

"We can summon Vivienne and Dorian. You are in a state of constant connection to the Fade, Trevelyan. With the three of us, it should be relatively safe," Solas implored, moving to meet her on the same side of Cullen's bed. "If we do not lift him from this state, his body could go into shock and we may very well lose him. Once he is out of the woods, so to speak, we can determine what happened… and not from a cadaver."

A strangled cry erupted from Cullen and Isabeau squeezed her eyes shut.

"Do it."

/+++/

Familiar green haze clouded the edges of Isabeau's vision as she silently made her way through the odd halls of ancient stone and blood. Distorted screams danced teasingly at the edges of her earshot, fading to little more than unintelligible whispers whenever she attempted to focus on the voices. Each time they flittered around her like eerie birds, she strained to catch a hint of Cullen's tangled amongst them.

_Maker, where is this hell?_

For what felt like hours Isabeau had been literally going in circles. With every floor she climbed of the tower she came upon more staircases, more grotesque piles of unidentifiable gore and limbs. While she had marveled at what appeared to be a magnificent library, the charm wore off quickly when she reminded herself books were meaningless and empty in the Fade. The chambers and halls were filled with bodies, desks and other manner of furniture, nearly all afloat at every possible angle. Isabeau would have almost found it comical if she wasn't so disturbed otherwise. _Besides, where are all the demons looking for a tasty morsel?_

It was the distinct lack of the malevolent spirits that was causing her skin to itch uncomfortably. Had the breach allowed so many to cross over and pollute Thedas that the Fade was nigh on still? Her hand instinctively tightened around her bastard sword, her marked hand glowing brightly upon the grip and cross guard. While the thought offered some modicum of hope that her current endeavor would not be as trying as she feared, she'd also dealt with enough of the vermin to focus that hope into a swift stride and steady hands. If Solas' lessons had driven anything into her for preparation, it was understanding that faith and determination were of more use to her here than her trepidation.

_Oh look, another staircase._

As she climbed the steps before her, she began to recall the precious few details she'd known of Cullen's past. _Ooh Maker... that's right; he had been at Kinloch Hold when it nearly fell into oblivion. _Given Isabeau's current surroundings, perhaps in Cullen's mind it had._ And let's not forget the debacle that was Kirkwall. Maker's breath, the man has abysmal luck. _While the opinion was a gross understatement, she couldn't help but feel a swell of admiration for the man it apparently shaped Cullen into. The city's Champion had fled, evidently leaving Cullen behind to pick up the pieces. Reining in a city rampant and in ruins, while also trying to maintain some semblance of peace, was not a feat to be scoffed at.

When Isabeau found herself at the top, she entered another chamber that was not unlike the previous ones below, this one also lined with upturned bookcases and other items of bizarre make and purpose. One was a giant globe of soft blues and violet, the numerous and delicate golden rings that encased it finely carved with various runes. As she approached it, tilting her head in curiosity, the rings began to spin rapidly around the pale globe. A faint, high pitched whir was emitting from whatever it was; Isabeau decided it was best to leave it alone and turned for the door at the far end of the hall.

This was certainly not her first willing foray into the Fade, but Isabeau had never trusted to investigate anything beyond a glance when in the bizarre world. They were still far from surmising exactly what her ability to close rifts meant within the Fade itself, Isabeau deciding its uses outside the Fade were enough to sate her curiosity for now. _Maybe here I can use it to summon some sweet cakes. Maybe some lamprey pie…_

Isabeau rolled her eyes at herself as she reached for the latch on the heavy wooden door, lifting and pushing it open. Immediately she brought a hand up to her mouth and nose, covering them in disgust as the sickly, sweet smell of decay assaulted her senses. Across from her, bloody black and rotting heaps of corpses were piled nearly half-way to the ceiling. Oddly, she couldn't recall smelling anything while searching the previous floors of the tower, the sudden onslaught to her senses almost making her gag before she turned around and was struck frozen in place.

Encased in dated Templar armor, kneeling and shaking, was Cullen. Isabeau sheathed her sword as she approached the strange light barrier that appeared to surround her advisors trembling form. As she extended her fingertips to touch the shimmering light, she thought better of it and quickly pulled her hand back, opting to kneel before him instead.

"Cullen!"

Slowly he raised his head, his eyes meeting hers briefly before darting around the room anxiously. "This trick again?"

The man before her was without a doubt her Marshall, but Isabeau noted the subtle changes in his features. Whatever manner of torment that had befallen him here was evident enough in his sunken and red rimmed eyes but... _It's Cullen… different though; where is his scar?_

She shook her head of the curiosity.

"No tricks Cullen, just me… Isabeau. It's time to leave this place my friend," Isabeau spoke gently and carefully, not wanting to frighten the man any more than he already was. Cullen's face slowly began to soften, his eyes narrowing as he focused on her crouched form. _You can get out of this big guy_. Before Isabeau could reach out her hand however, his eyes snapped to something behind her. A pathetic cry escaped his lips as he again buried his face into his trembling hands, sobs wracking his body.

"You will do as I command, Cullen."

Isabeau whipped around to find two women standing before her. One was clad in a provocative form-fitting robe, long tresses of dark hair cascading past her shoulders. The other woman was as fair as the previous was dark. Blonde hair and piercing blue eyes bore into Isabeau's, the shimmering of Cullen's cage and Isabeau's own hand glimmering off the diadem gracing the creature's forehead. While Isabeau and Cullen had certainly nurtured a promising rapport over their shared tasks for the Inquisition, in no way had she dared to pry beyond the business at hand. The dark haired woman was a mystery to Isabeau… _The blonde though. Kirkwall…_

Isabeau rose to her full height, blithely sliding her bastard sword from its scabbard, the finely crafted blade outstretched between her person and the demons. "You are not Meredith Stannard… nor do you command this man."

Eyes that were firstly striking blue and dusky brown morphed to a glowing purple haze, perverse grins spreading across both women's faces. The unknown woman sashayed towards Isabeau, hips seductively rolling with each step, before stopping a foot away from Isabeau's blade.

"Have you forgotten me sweet Ser Cullen? Would this one please you more now?"

Revulsion grated at Isabeau's poised stance as she watched the robes practically melt from the demons body, her own naked form taking shape in replacement. No sooner had the raven haired woman disappeared than did she reappear in replacement of the false Meredith, coming up behind the demon imitating Isabeau's form. A hand faintly shimmering of violet snaked up to cup a supple breast. Vulgar moans escaped their lips before the dark haired demon's hand slowly trailed its way between the doppelgangers' legs and pale blonde curls.

"Does Ser Cullen desire us both?" Their voices became one singular purr, somehow moans of ecstasy simultaneously enveloping the room, "Does Ser Cullen desire to _fuck_ us both?"

Isabeau couldn't help but stare in sickened fascination at the scene that was unfolding. While the demons predominately had the appearance of the human women, Isabeau could see more of their true form the longer she looked. Cullen must have dared a glance as she heard a desperate and _half-hungry_ groan slip from his lips

"Oh Maker…! Y-you... cannot use my, my **shame** against me... now **be gone**!"

Isabeau suddenly snapped to attention, shaking her head in an effort to rid it of the visions of desire. Bearing witness to the deeply personal needs and fears Cullen endured, in such a twisted and depraved display, left a bitter taste in her mouth. She buried the waves of pity that were threatening to crash over and consume her.

"Enough! You will die!"

She leapt at the demons, feinting to bring her sword down from a high arc before she swept gracefully behind the fiends at the last second. She pivoted on the balls of her feet and in one fluid movement her sword slashed across one of the creature's shoulders, her blade cleanly slicing off the head of the dark haired demon. Even severed, the wretched thing shrieked as it returned to its usual demon form, its headless corpse collapsing to the floor in a heap. The second had narrowly missed the edge of the blade and though Isabeau attempted to leap from its advancing grasp, she felt a sharp yank and pain in her neck as the demons claws tightened around her throat.

Isabeau's feet quickly shot up, planting themselves firmly against the demons torso, her thick and powerful thighs releasing a heaving kick; both demon and Isabeau sent sprawling from the awkward and sudden release. With an echoing clatter her sword was knocked away from her immediate reach, Isabeau faintly acknowledging its whereabouts before the demon leapt at her again, its razor-like claws raking across her leather and plate bodice. As the Inquisitor dodged another attack and dove for where her sword lay, the wind was suddenly knocked from her lungs as she felt something slam forcefully into her back, hurtling her to the floor face first. An all-encompassing heat licked at her flesh, the demon attacking her with its spells of Fade flame. A scream erupted from her as she hastily tried to simultaneously roll away and extinguish the flames, but the demon was too quickly upon her, grabbing her ankle and yanking her back. Isabeau's fingers just brushed the pommel of her bastard sword when an unnatural scream exploded from behind her, the demons grip on her ankle instantly released.

Panting, Isabeau quickly rolled over onto her back, her fingers finally gripping her blade before swiftly thrusting its point protectively out in front of her. The barrier that had previously contained Cullen was gone and before her stood the Cullen she recognized, a sword held in both hands that was buried deep between the demons shoulders. The scar that graced his lips had returned; his hair disheveled but less unruly. As he savagely kicked the demon to the side, his hand reached down to help her up, a mixture of shame and shock clear in his misty green eyes.

"Inquisitor… I…"

Clasping his hand in hers, Isabeau allowed Cullen to pull her back to her feet, the pair both breathing in quick shallow gasps from the aftermath of the ordeal. Isabeau planted her hands on her knees as she sucked in deep breaths of the Fade around them, the searing pain in her flesh dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. She tilted her head to look up at Cullen through the wavy and ashen tresses of her hair. Before another word could leave either of their lips, Isabeau watched in relief as Cullen began to fade, the stonework beneath her own feet lurching before her vision went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a heat upon her; Isabeau became vaguely aware of her growing discomfort before it all came rushing back at once. Fully expecting to find her skin awash in purple flames, she instead found her body on a meet and greet with the rushes and solid stone floor of her bed chambers. With a heavy thump she crumpled awkwardly against floor and bed frame, her coverlets tangled clumsily in her legs. _Savior of the known world and head of the mightiest organization in Thedas… Hear me roar._

Sunlight was streaming through the half drawn drapes of her boudoir, several of which graced the surface of the bed she had previously occupied. Isabeau groaned as she set herself right side up and threw herself back atop the goose down mattress, her wakefulness now allowing her to enjoy the streams of morning light that had previously startled her. As she ground her hands into her eyes to rub the sleep out, she decided that, while extremely tempting to remain, it was time to dress and check on Cullen. It had been nearly dawn when Isabeau had found her way back to her bed, Solas opting to remain with the beleaguered knight.

Once clad in a linen chemise, a bodice over top and supple leather trousers, Isabeau made her way to her solar. She grabbed a pear off the bowl of fruit that her attendants had left to break her fast and made her way down the hall towards the men's apartments. Varric was chatting with Josephine by the steps that lead to the war room and greater halls, the pair turning their gazes in her direction at the sound of her approaching steps.

Isabeau smiled warmly at the two, reaching to give Josephine's hand a grateful squeeze, "Thank you for the assistance last night, Josephine. I trust you were able to get some sleep?"

The beautiful Antivan let out a throaty chuckle, her hand squeezing Isabeau's back in turn, "It was enough, Inquisitor. I shall sleep… better tonight knowing you and the Knight are again safe."

"That bad?"

Varric snorted, "Half the keep thought you two had finally had a good rutting."

"Varric!"

Josephine's chastising cry was blessedly enough to distract the dwarf from the blush creeping across Isabeau's chest and cheeks. She narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion, "The keep is a vast fortress… _surely _a dwarf couldn't have spread such words through the very stone? You can't _talk_ to stone, can you, Varric?"

"Chapter one: The Marshall of Thy Maiden's Mattress," Varric said, flashing Isabeau his best leer.

"You know, I'm just… _so_ fond of you," Isabeau groaned playfully, her hips slanting as she palmed her forehead in exasperation before fixing a softer expression upon her features. "Listen, kindly take today for yourselves; I will call a meeting upon the morrow. I want to ensure I still have someone in command of my armies."

"As you desire," Josephine demurred, gracing Isabeau with another of her delicate bows. Varric smirked at the Inquisitor, turning around to follow the Antivan towards the upper levels of the keep. Before he was out of earshot however, he waved a hand over his head and called back, "Didn't realize your tits blushed, Inks. Great stuff for the book!"

Isabeau grinned bemusedly before taking several more bites of her pear, her strides carrying her to Cullen's apartments and solar quickly enough. As she entered and made to toss her pear pit into the now cool hearth, Vivienne and Solas appeared from the bedchamber.

"How is he?"

Vivienne gently closed the double doors with her usual grace that increasingly made Isabeau feel like little more than a blind nug. Solas smiled warmly however, and gestured towards the two arm chairs Isabeau had noted the previous night. As the pair sat, Vivienne smiled kindly at her Inquisitor before requesting her leave.

"I confess I am in dire need of some rest. It was a long night, Sirrah."

"Of course Vee, as you will," Isabeau smiled her thanks as the elegant woman departed, her attention turning back to Solas in the chair next to her, "Has he awoken?"

"He has certainly stabilized – you did well last night. I'm confident we're in the clear but no, he has not woken. Isabeau," Solas leaned forward in his seat, crossing his fingers in a tent as he pressed their tips to his lips, "The doses I gave him of Lyrium… last night and this morn. If he has indeed been weaning himself, I fear we have set him back upon square one."

Isabeau let out a heavy sigh, "What choice did we have? I don't understand… he is surrounded by people competent and more than trust worthy to assist him. Why attempt this alone?"

Solas stared at her knowingly, his large and perceptive eyes darkening, "I cannot say I know the man on the… required level to answer that. However, you entered the Fade and walked through his very own nightmare. Perhaps the answer to your question lied within?"

With that Solas bid her a fare morning, gently squeezing her shoulder as he passed, and made his way out of Cullen's solar leaving Isabeau to brood. Solas claimed to not know Cullen, truth be told, Isabeau could barely say she knew the man. She knew his tactics, his diplomacies, even his skill with steel from the few opportunities she'd managed to spar with him. Varric, when she'd discreetly inquired, had divulged what he knew and had experienced of Cullen while in Kirkwall with the Champion, but never had the two been close. Solas however, was skilled with the Fade and Isabeau would not have found it farfetched to believe during the connection Solas may have also glimpsed the same as she.

_The raven girl…_

An involuntary shudder passed through her body as she recalled the three forms the demons chose to take. The damned blush Varric had invoked threatened to tint the flesh of her bosom once again as she remembered viciously grappling with her own naked self. Perhaps the demons had chosen her form as it was the most convenient? Isabeau let out an exasperated snort. It was more _convenient_ for her to believe anything _other_ than acknowledging the very nature of desire demons at that current moment.

Rising from the comfortable chair beneath her, she tentatively made her way towards Cullen's bedchambers. While Isabeau hoped to be brief, she also reached down for Cullen's own platter of fruit and fried eggs, deciding he was unlikely to make a trip to his solar. _He'll be asleep. Pop your head in, make sure the lad still breathes and be done with it_. She ruefully shook her head at her own musings as she pushed open one of the double doors, finding herself facing a Cullen who was not only sitting up against the headboard of his bed but was also very awake.

_And still very shirtless. Oh Maker…_

Isabeau softly cleared her throat, "Ser Cullen… good morrow," she began as she made her way to his bedside, feigning nonchalance as she placed the platter of food at his bedside and pulled up a nearby chair.

"Inquisitor, to you as well. I uh… I apologize for the state of undress. Had I known you would be visiting...?" Cullen began before a large hand reached up and behind his head to rub his neck. The small smile he offered her as he reached for his plate of eggs after was damn near _sheepish_, Isabeau's own body in clear rebellion as his words agonizingly sent her back to the previous nights events. There was only so much skin a low cut chemise and bodice could manage to hide. Isabeau had prided herself on her usual stoicism, but the intimacy of the previous nights escapades were not lost on her, the resulting gawkiness upsetting her careful decisiveness. Before her was a man she spoke war with, clashed steel in camaraderie… and after one night their well-oiled rapport was crumbling like a feeble wall around her.

_Out with it, be direct and be honest. This is __**Cullen**__._

"How are you feeling?" she asked instead.

Cullen chewed and swallowed the eggs he had just forked into his mouth, his adam's apple bobbing under the flesh of his thick neck. "Well, my lady. You are kind to have brought me this to break my fast."

Isabeau nodded and the pair sat in an awkward silence, Cullen quietly eating while Isabeau became increasingly fascinated with the textures of the mason work above his head. Even while fleshing out some of the tougher decisions with her advisors, some of whom Cullen had a tendency to… disagree with, the pair had never shared an awkward moment between them. Cullen himself could put Isabeau's continence to shame at the best of times. Perhaps it was more prudent for her to simply assure her relief he was well and leave it unspoken?

Cullen evidently had different plans, surprising Isabeau as he spoke up.

"Inquisitor, I fear I know why you are here this morn and I would be grateful should you allow me the opportunity to explain myself?"

_Explain what? You were tortured and left to die in a tower full of demons? Explain your insane Commander had damn near killed you, and now trollops about in your dreams with sexy visions of mage sluts? My own person now included, no less._

Isabeau frowned at herself, reaching up to rub the sides of her forehead with her thumb and ring finger. Cullen turned his head slightly to the side, his eyes downcast as he continued.

"You are right to be displeased with me; it was a risk I should not have taken without your knowledge or leave. There is no excuse for jeopardizing our efforts. I misjudged my own readiness and you nearly paid the consequence of my oversight. Should you-"

Isabeau raised her hand, silencing Cullen mid sentence.

_Direct. Honest._

"Cullen, tell me true… do you recall what exactly transpired last night?"

While Cullen had regained some of his colour after his illness the previous night, he blanched again at Isabeau's question, shame shadowing his handsome features as he nodded once in confirmation. Isabeau stood and dared to drag the chair she sat upon closer to Cullen's beside, worrying at her bottom lip as she considered her next words carefully.

"Please… don't be ashamed. Maker knows I haven't had one night's decent rest since the Fade decided to chew me up and spit me back out," she began, looking down at her hands as she absently rubbed her fingers and clarified, "The first time, I should say. You were true with me and I owe it in turn; I have harbored… my suspicions of our _shared_ _condition_ since our evening routine really took form."

Cullen smiled tiredly, knowing she spoke of their many late nights in the war room.

Isabeau raised her pale eyes this time to meet Cullen's green, "We don't have to talk of it, ever. What happened in the Fade; I can empathize with the ramifications of a demons torment more than you can realize," she reached out and, as she had the night before, took Cullen's large hand in her own. "The only explanation I would have of you is this Lyrium nonsense. The Fade doesn't have to make sense but… you are my most trusted advisor. Please tell me why you couldn't have asked for _help_?"

Cullen's face softened before he sighed in reply, "Were it so easy. Your compassion is appreciated but it is a flame I must bear and have alone. You have my sincerest apologies for this debacle I've caused, my lady."

Isabeau's small but calloused hand gave Cullen's a reassuring squeeze as she rose from her seat beside him. _Enough for today, but..._

"Well enough," she said gently before straightening to attention befit her position, "Cullen, you will begin a monitored and controlled reduction of Lyrium intake. I will be arranging this program for you with the assistance of Solas and _only _Solas. You will meet with me when possible to go over your progress, unless I am away from the Keep. Solas is a good and skilled man Cullen, he can help you. Kindly let him… that's an order."

He nodded slowly in acceptance, "And my duties?

"I am postponing all of my engagements until further notice and will be remaining at the Keep unless dire consequences demand otherwise. Your Lieutenant-General will assume your non-critical duties as your General is currently treating with Bann Teagan. I will preside over your more vital responsibilities in the mean time. "

Cullen's back visibly straightened, his mouth pressed into a firm line as he nodded his acquiescence, "Yes, Inquisitor."

Isabeau sighed and relaxed, turning to the table that ran along the wall between the tall windows of Cullen's chambers. She poured half a cup of wine and filled the remaining half with water, bringing it to Cullen to drink. He took it from her hand with thanks as she stood before him, her arms crossed. "You may carry on per usual in the interim, but when you are upon your final doses, you are to be confined to your chambers. After you have recovered, barring any protestations from Solas, you may begin to return to your usual tasks."

With a gentle bow of her head, Isabeau turned to leave the bedchamber.

"Isabeau?"

She turned then to find him looking at her appreciatively, Isabeau smiling at the sound of her name on his lips. _Are we at first name basis now, ser knight? _

"Yes, Cullen?"

"Thank you… m-my lady," he said, the faintest hint of a blush creeping across his cheeks as he stammered. The ache in Isabeau's chest became a veritable clench and she couldn't help but smile warmly at her lion.

"You are most welcome Cullen."


	3. Chapter 3

"Solas tells me your treatment is coming along smoothly," Isabeau commented before tearing off a greasy morsel of her honeyed duck, popping it between her lips. Cullen had stoically committed to the reduction regiment Solas and Isabeau had instituted, their follow-up meetings eventually evolving into dinner when convenient. As the weeks had progressed, Isabeau had noted little change in Cullen's demeanor when upon his daily tasks. Occasionally she had caught herself scrutinizing the man's face during war councils, searching for any signs of duress. To her immense inconvenience, Bull and Varric had both regretfully come to notice her lingering eyes, embarrassing consequences following in the wake.

"He is kind to say so, though I fear my nightly doses have become increasingly sparse. I do not think it long now," Cullen explained, reaching for his goblet of wine. He swallowed deeply and placed the goblet back down, lifting his knife and cutting off a large piece from his own portion of the savory duck. Isabeau caught herself staring at the way his jaw moved as he chewed slowly, the slightest hint of grease at the corner of his scarred lip. Her eyes trailed along the sharp contours of his jaw as the grease glinted in the flickering candlelight, only snapping from her stupor when Cullen wiped it away with back of his hand. She cleared her throat and took another generous swig of her wine.

"Solas has said as much," she confirmed, biting into a fried string bean, chewing thoughtfully before continuing, "He proposes tonight to be your final dose. Are you ready for that Ser?"

Cullen put his knife down on the table beside his trencher, leaning back and draping an arm over the back of his chair. His gaze met hers before he turned his head and stared at the flames in the nearby hearth intently. If Isabeau were to be honest, she had come to enjoy the almost casual familiarity that had developed between them in the days since. While their chats over occasional meals and tea had not usually gone any deeper than his progress, sometimes they would find themselves with lighter discussion; there was an undeniable change to his demeanor when in the privacy of her solar.

He smiled warmly at her now, "Yes Inquisitor, I am prepared."

Isabeau let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding, "Well enough. Now, tell me how the recruits have been faring? I understand the addition of Teagan's bannermen have proven an asset."

A soft chuckle escaped Cullen's lips as he leaned forward, his elbows now resting on the table as he clasped one hand in the other, "Have you become acquainted with any of our latest recruits, my lady?"

"I have attended a few drills and melees this past week, yes. Not enough however, to recall individuals if I am honest," she took a sip of her wine, "The truth of it? Half the time I step in the ring, it's like they think I'm made of ruddy glass. I suppose I can understand it but, next to Cassandra? Having Bull to have a good spar with can leave oneself… tender. Usually ends with me on my arse."

This time Cullen's laugh was more akin to a bark, "Yes, I can believe it. However, in time the recruits will come around the more they find you as their opponent in the ring. I understand the lady's regular duties do not leave much opportunity, though." He took his goblet in his hand and gave the wine a swirl before bringing it to his lips.

Isabeau smiled at the sight. _And just how many times were you there to see me land on my arse Ser Roar?_

"Is there something or someone I should _know of _in this latest batch, good Ser Knight?"

"There's this one, actually – Rowan, his name is. He's a right character but it's uncanny what the man can do with a falchion. Usually to the detriment of his opponent," the crow feet crinkled at the corners of his eyes, an amused grin spreading across Cullen's face. "Of course, I can't let the other lads know I secretly share a little chuckle with myself when a victory dance occasionally follows -"

He leaned forward then, raising his eyebrows in a cheeky manner.

"- You know… I can put golems to shame when necessary. Part of the whole Templar package."

Isabeau nearly choked on her wine biting back her snort. Whether he was aware of how incredibly suggestive the words had come out or not, the rare display of flippancy made her burst out laughing. A tiny stream of wine dribbled out from the corner of her lips in her attempts to avert the snort, the dark liquid halfway down her chin. As she raised her head and went to wipe it away, a snarky remark on the tip of her tongue, she caught Cullen's gaze. His eyes had softened, his lips gently pursed as he regarded her thoughtfully. _Oh, I'd say a little more than thoughtful._ A word Varric usually sprinkled liberally when in the deepest throes of romantic prose came to mind. _Is that… is he_ smoldering_ at me?_

Her intentions for sass now long abandoned, the words died on her lips. She felt a blush teasing her chest, awkwardly rubbing her thumb along her chin and lip until dry_,_ feeling contrite over her ill-advised ogling minutes prior.

Cullen coughed into his hand and pushed his chair back from the table, "The hour is late my lady and I'll need my rest for the coming days."

Isabeau jolted and rose from her own seat, joining Cullen as he walked towards the door, "Of course Cullen. Thank you for coming tonight, I appreciate you are an encumbered taskmaster as it is."

"You are… fair company, Isabeau. It is no task at all," he replied courteously, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Ser Cullen."

As she closed the door behind him, she reached up to run a hand through her near-white hair. As more days were invested towards Cullen's recovery, each of their sessions had allowed whatever awkwardness that remained from their shared ordeal to dissipate. _At least in person; the nights alone on the other hand… _Isabeau was finding it difficult to get some sound sleep. Flames, screaming and a perpetually present song had been disrupting her dreams for quite some time since Cassandra had found her. Eventually they had blessedly diminished in their frequency but since entering the Fade for Cullen, they had returned in force. The newest addition to her nightly ritual usually culminated in Isabeau awaking to a sickening assortment of revulsion and arousal, the images of her naked body and Cullen fading as she willed her beating heart to slow. The combined onslaught dotted with cold sweats and panicked leaping out of bed had plagued Isabeau so desperately she sought Solas for herbal remedies, a nightly tea prescribed with a gentle jab about the benefits of mages and dwarfs. Isabeau had been so exhausted she hadn't had it in her to stick around and argue about her lack of magic or stone sense.

It was that very tea Isabeau was now ladling from the pot over the hearth, the hot drink warming her hands from the chill of Skyhold's location. She sat down again before her trencher at the table, idly sipping and popping a few more pieces of duck into her mouth. She stared at the glove covering her left hand.

_ Not especially placated with this bloody thing on my hand. If I enter the Fade every time I sleep, could the mark amplify it in some way? _At least she had been relatively successful in keeping the intrusive memories at bay, especially given the recent and more intimate regularity of Cullen's presence. Sometimes, if she was not vigilant enough with herding her roaming thoughts, Isabeau had curiosities and speculations rampantly explode. When agonized over enough, she could uselessly confess to fretting over whether the man could take her seriously anymore; shame at him seeing her naked form agitating her to no end if she'd let it.

_And to the _Void_ with this accursed blushing! Since when was I rampant with maidenhood at any age besides twelve?_

Isabeau audibly groaned after her last gulp of tea, standing and making her way to the boudoir. She tugged at the laces of her bodice and breeches, shrugging out of them and opting to sleep in her chemise. She pulled the thick quilts and coverlets over her, tucking them between her thighs before staring at the opposite wall, reflecting on the evening. The next few nights would be particularly rough for Cullen. Solas and she had worked out a schedule between them to supervise between the days and nights, Isabeau eagerly offering to cover the evening shifts. _A little too eagerly, actually._

Obvious sleeping habits aside, Isabeau couldn't deny her desire to be involved in the man's recovery. For all of her own chaotic emotions over what she had witnessed, it must have felt incredibly invasive for Cullen to find her in his own personal hell. She felt an obligation to him, not just as his leader and comrade, to assist in whatever capacity possible. To his credit, Cullen had dedicated himself to his orders in no different a fashion than his other responsibilities. It was the gradual reveal of who Cullen was as a person that had Isabeau smiling alone in the dark now, the even temperament increasingly peppered with glib wit, expected and yet utterly not.

On one occasion the pair had spent one of their meetings out on an afternoon ride. Isabeau had decided to do some falconry from the saddle as they lazily loped through the drifts of snow and rocky paths. Skyhold's name was well deserved and while she occasionally found herself lamenting the lack of grass, the crisp air did wonders for the lungs. They had decided to make a point of stopping at the various outposts tucked into the perimeter of the Keeps surrounding cliffs, checking on their men and supplies. When they had stopped to water their horses, the two had chatted over skins of wine and hard bread with cheese. Cullen had surprised her when he unexpectedly began asking of her person, how she herself was resting and managing the weight of her station.

"_If I said anything other than 'with extraordinary poise and stalwart resolve', would you believe it?" She had smiled diffidently at him then, bringing her skin to swallow deeply of some wine. Cullen was sitting before her, one long leg stretched out while the other bent at the knee, his arm idly tossing crumbs of his bread at some nearby cliff swallows. A small gathering of the little birds hopped delicately about in the distance, Isabeau double-checking her falcon was hooded and tied securely._

"_I might, though I feel I can attest better than most the value to a veneer of stone. It certainly had its uses in Kirkwall…" he trailed off, tearing a tough piece of crust from his bread. _

_Isabeau worried at her lip, "Everyone has heard the before, no matter the variation… To be frank, I've always been curious of the __**after.**__ You were acting Knight Commander for a time, were you not?" _

_Cullen sighed, "Indeed. The battles with Meredith and Orsino were… brutal, the destruction of the Chantry devastating. Had the Captain of the City Guard not been the committed and just woman she was, I fear the ensuing aftermath could have turned out much worse. It will be many years before it is fully restored to order; if ever at all given current circumstance."_

_ Isabeau pulled her knees to her chest, hugging her arms around her shins as she carefully considered her words, "Surely Cassandra had spoken with you before confronting Varric?"_

_ "Actually, no - I was not even alerted to the Seekers presence until it was too late to intervene. Aveline and I both were forced to wait with the seneschal at the Viscount's Keep," Cullen took a deep breath, its exhale sending a puff of vapor billowing from his lips in the chilly air, "Kirkwall's Circle was nigh deserted then, the mages who remained… they were not dangerous_ people_, but a frightened _mage _can be. When the mass dissolution of the Circle's hit, it was all my men and I could do to stem the tide of chaos again. We lost what few remained to sword or to escape, so when Cassandra approached me, there were no... limitations."_

_ "You must have commanded a great deal of loyalty for so many of your men to have joined you in those fledgling days."_

_Cullen smiled ruefully, "You're kind to say so, my lady. It was not an easy decision."_

_ "None of them ever are," she agreed, the pair slipping into a comfortable silence, Isabeau turning to watch the swallows Cullen continued to feed. She enjoyed seeing the little creatures take wing, hearing their lovely little chirps as they scuttled about. She considered what Cullen had said._

_ "It's… quite the change, is it not?"_

_ "Pardons, my lady?" Cullen looked at her, an eyebrow arched quizzically._

_ "Those critical junctions where you realize __**you **__have to be the one to make those decisions? I have found the cushion of command that we can oft times take for granted becomes rapidly appealing then ," she picked at her fingernails and smiled at Cullen, "I can't say there hasn't been a day when I wanted to say bugger it all."_

_ Chuckling, Cullen inclined his head in agreement, "I can imagine. I've… spent a significant portion of my life putting faith in my superior's decisions. Believing they would do what was just but necessary. Unfortunately, I've come to learn the lines between the two can blur in horrific ways."_

_ "Between you and me Cullen, those lines are being blurred on all sides of this war," Isabeau stood and made her way to her horse, tucking the remnants of their meal into her saddle bag, "I need you to help me keep them as defined as we can; I'm not keen on joining the ranks of your previous superiors."_

_ Cullen took the reins of his own horse and guided it on foot to Isabeau. She fought a jump of surprise when he reached and squeezed her arm in his gloved hand._

"_It's my duty to see you don't, Lady Inquisitor." _

_Isabeau met his gaze as they stood amongst their horses, Cullen's large hand remaining upon her arm. She slowly reached up with the other and placed her hand over his, the tips of her fingers slightly tucking under his palm. _

_ "Your helm is well-chosen, Cullen." The compliment tumbled from her lips and she felt her flesh heat through the cloths and furs that were protecting her from the frosty mountain air. As Cullen moved to step closer, Isabeau released her grip and spun, deftly climbing up into her horse's saddle. She caught a glimpse of Cullen blinking as he stared at her previously occupied space, before turning her horse in the direction back to the Keep. The sound of hooves behind her soon followed, Cullen falling in on his destrier to canter beside her palfrey._

_ "Forgive me, my lady, but I believe you still haven't answered my original question," he began tentatively, giving her a sidelong glance, "You are quite the interrogator but permit me this brief exchange of roles."_

_ What could Isabeau say? Cullen wasn't looking for opinions on their strategy or which nobles she had danced the Game with. "Which would you prefer first, Ser Knight? Shall we examine my incredibly abysmal sleeping schedule? Or how about that sometimes when I find Bull has yet again raided the buttery or larder, I seriously examine my ability to toss him from a parapet?"_

_ Cullen snorted, attempting to mask it with a cough. _

"_I'd be most impressed if you could, but neither, my lady. Forgive me if I assume too much, but I would know if your… memory of the temple has improved at all?" He shifted in his saddle, the leather groaning in protest as he readjusted his grip on the reins, "It seemed to have troubled you quite a bit."_

"_Arguably, I would say it troubled me too little, Ser. But no, I have not regained much more than was last discussed…" she trailed off as her face darkened, recalling her first few steps from the Fade but little and less of her time within. "If I am honest, I have abstained from further attempts. It is far easier, and more welcome, to remember home instead."_

_ "And what was home, Inquisitor?"_

_ Salty sea air was suddenly on her lips, the crashing of distant waves and gentle rolling fields of day lilies and sea oats flashing then at the back of Isabeau's mind."Hercinia, of the Free Marches, but… it has been a long time. I have a new home, Cullen. My mantle is a heavy one but I am blessed to not bear it alone. Whatever home was, it is now Skyhold and its people. My people. It is Fereldan, Orlais, _and _the Marches. Whether I am on the sea in Antiva or amongst the ruins of the Dales, I will be home. To consider otherwise sort of makes this endeavor of mine a tad folly, you see."_

_ She didn't catch Cullen's private smile._

She didn't remember falling asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Her hands trembled slightly as Isabeau yet again soaked the linen in the water basin, bringing the coolly drenched cloth back to Cullen's forehead. She patted and wiped gently at his clammy skin, repeating the action until she was satisfied to relent and take her seat back at his side. It was the third night since Cullen had gone without Lyrium and his detox was nearing its blessed end, the first two nights so trying Isabeau had been forced at one point to call on Bull, needing him to restrain Cullen's hysterical thrashing.

_Much better tonight, though __**Maker **__this profuse sweating needs to end._

Isabeau had arrived tonight to relieve Solas shortly after Cullen had retired to bed, opting to sit down and eat the meal the thoughtful elf had arranged to be ready for her. Once he had left, she quickly poked her head in to find the templar sleeping soundly, only retiring to one of the armchairs by the hearth when he hadn't stirred at her presence. She had been making a considerable dent into reading a rather dry book, _The Sigils of Thedas,_ when the first cries of discomfort erupted from behind the double doors. She had remained in the bed chambers ever since.

"Shh, shh, Cullen..." She gently soothed now as he began to thrash under the sheets, his increasingly desperate groans disquieting her further. Solas had advised that if Ser Cullen became too agitated, she was to wake him at once. He hadn't entirely been comfortable with Isabeau left alone to deal with the knight's outbursts, concerned they could turn violent again. Isabeau had reassured him she would be fine several times before he finally relented and left her to it.

A strangled scream abruptly exploded from Cullen. Isabeau leapt from her seat with the intention of waking him but the man had already shot up in his sleep, his eyes wide as he rapidly panted, before she could even lay a hand upon him. She slowed as she approached the bed, keeping her movements precise and controlled as Cullen's eyes flittered around the room before coming to finally rest on her.

She reached for the decanter of water and silently poured him a cup, holding it before her as his breathing slowed and his gaze settled into one of familiarity. Angry circles of bruised purple had formed again around his eyes and he sighed with exhaustion, a shaky hand rising to rub down the length of his face, stopping to scratch at his now unruly facial hair.

Isabeau offered him the water and he swallowed it down in three hungry gulps. He half-groaned once he was finished, passing the cup back into her hands before easing himself lower on the bed.

"You have my thanks."

"Nasty one?"

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, "Yes."

"I can return to the solar if you wish? There's also still some of that tea Solas brewed, it should help a bit…?" She irritatingly floundered as she made her way to the brew and refilled the cup, burying the nagging trepidation before turning to smirk teasingly at Cullen, "Or there's some choice reading on your book shelves that would do the trick."

"You're reading my books?"

"Well, there's certainly no shortage of them. Unless you mind?" she asked, setting the cup down on the night table before returning to her seat. Cullen shook his head, closing his eyes as he sank deeper into his pillow. As the minutes dragged on in silence, Isabeau decided to retreat back to the solar and leave him to rest but his eyes opened when she made to leave.

"How long have you been having them?"

"Your books?"

"Your terrors."

_Oh. _Caught off-guard, Isabeau felt her brain fumble for a response. She had gone so long without a peaceful sleep that it was regrettably becoming the norm. If she wasn't watching thousands burn over and over again, it was the incessant singing that kept her awake. Sometimes, when she was closing a rift, it would return, both beautiful and unsettling to behold. The worst were the nights when she lay awake in bed, the hauntingly familiar tune driving her to such distraction she always found her way back to the war room.

Cullen had been there ahead of her more times than not.

"Since Cassandra found me," she cautiously admitted, coming around the end of the bed to sit at Cullen's feet, "I don't… remember them clearly most of the time but I'm always waking up in a sorry state." She ruefully chuckled, staring blankly as she cracked her knuckles," It grew so relentless at one point, I eventually sent for Solas in desperation. His tea has been helping... "

Fatigue had lined Cullen's face, his voice sounding far away, "It… has been years for me. When I was still at Kinloch Hold, my Knight-Commander was eventually forced to send me for… rehabilitation. I had ah, struggled a great deal after Uldred," he tentatively clarified, pausing when he reached for his tea, "Greenfell… was a peaceful village. I remember the glasswork in the Chantry had been beautiful. For a time I remained there, working with the Revered Mother and the Sisters. But Kirkwall was… most trying. I haven't been able to reclaim what little succor I'd gained at Greenfell ever since."

Isabeau stared down at her hands now anxiously picking at her nails_._ In that moment, she felt a great pressure pushing against the dam she had painstakingly erected. The disquiet and ceaseless gnawing that dominated her waking moments bubbling dangerously to the surface, the desire to expunge it all nearly overpowering her great reluctance. Even when she had reached out to Solas, she had remained as vague as she dared, the unnatural melody that was slowly infesting her mind being conveniently absent from their discussion. Foolish as she knew it was, Isabeau felt nothing but dread at the prospect of facing her cohorts over the matter. No one behind Skyhold's walls was without their scars, but to Isabeau, being beset with memories was surely easier to swallow than what currently plagued her.

"Have I upset you, my lady?"

At Cullen's concerned tone she looked at her hands and realized she had nearly picked them bloody. She nervously slid them under her thighs and away from sight, ashamed.

"Not at all Ser Cullen, but you need your rest and I have interrupted that for long enough. I will leave you to finish your tea," she replied quietly as she rose from the bed. When she turned to leave, she heard the mattress groan in protest as a callused hand suddenly caught her own and gently spun her back. A pounding erupted between Isabeau's ears as she felt herself being slowly pulled towards the bed. Cullen shuffled over and up as he guided her to sit beside him, their backs pressed against the headboard. His hand remained in hers while the other came to clasp them both.

"C-Cullen?" Isabeau croaked uselessly as their closeness and the heat radiating from his body sent her mind spinning, the action incredibly uncharacteristic of the Cullen she knew. When she chanced to look at him, stormy grey eyes met with dusky green, her lips parting slightly as one of his hands began to trail up her arm. Her breath caught in her throat as the tips of his fingers glided over the soft skin of her slender neck, Isabeau closing her eyes from the sensation as his thumb teased her ear and cupped the back of her head. The pounding of her heart became near deafening as his face drew closer, their lips brushing ever so slightly as he tilted his head to meet hers.

Isabeau raised a hand haltingly to his chest.

"**Cullen**…"

Suddenly he went still, his eyes widening as he took in Isabeau's shaken expression, the nearness of their bodies, before promptly ripping himself away from her. "Maker, I-I apologize lady Trevelyan! I was… elsewhere."

She wrapped her arms around herself protectively, both averting their eyes in a similar fashion. Unbeknownst to Cullen, it had not been the first time he had acted in such a manner; fits of waking dreams and living memories had become a reoccurring consequence in these last days of his purging. An uncomfortable mix of shame and disappointment settled in her chest, irate she had allowed the farce to proceed as far as it had tonight.

_And yet I'm left… yearning._

The words came from her lips before she could think, "The raven haired girl…?"

Cullen visibly slumped back onto the bed, a hand covering his face, "Amell," he replied desolately, "Her name… she was an Amell. "

"…A mage of the circle?"

His voice came out in a shame laden whisper, "Yes."

Isabeau involuntarily winced and the silence turned unbearably heavy around them.When she could take no more of it, she resolutely strode from the bedchamber before Cullen could intervene again. She closed the heavy double doors behind her and sunk to the woven rushes on the floor beneath, carefully resting the back of her head against one of the doors. She heard the telltale groans of the mattress and closed her eyes, listening as Cullen settled.

At some point sleep had taken hold of her there on the floor and when she woke next, she found a blanket draped over her, the edges of it carefully tucked around her shoulders. She vigorously rubbed at her bleary, sleep-filled eyes and carefully opened the door beside her a crack, listening. Soft snores drifted through her ears, the aches in her body stirring an unsolicited temptation to climb into the bed next to Cullen. Judging by the faint light starting to poke its way through the gaps in the drapes, Isabeau realized Solas would be coming to relieve her shortly. Her suspicions were confirmed when one of the keep's serving girls appeared with a tray for Isabeau to break her fast. She decided to chance leaving Cullen alone, scribbling a note for Solas on a piece of parchment which she left beside the platter.

_Long night. Don't let him be too hard on himself. _

_-T_


	5. Chapter 5

Cullen's eyes blearily opened to the furious scratch of quill upon parchment, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he looked for its source. As his bedchambers came into focus, he found Solas at his desk, pausing at whatever he was writing to take a careful sip from his steaming mug. There was a faint pounding in Cullen's head but as he took stock of his faculties, he realized he was significantly improved compared to the previous morns.

Solas' eyes rose from the parchment, "Excellent, you're awake," he said, setting his quill back into its inkpot. He stood and made his way over to Cullen, the larger man patiently accepting the elf's ministrations. It had taken Cullen some time to feel comfortable in the mage's presence; though his misgivings had mostly abated during his time in the elf's care, the two did not share what he would call a comfortable acquaintance. Vigilance was a difficult mandate to put aside.

Once Solas seemed satisfied, he removed a hand from Cullen's now cool forehead and nodded at the templar favorably.

"I think… it should be smoother sailing here on out, Ser Cullen."

A sigh of relief floated from Cullen's lips as he ran a hand through his unruly hair, "Thank Andraste." Though still feeling a bit weakened, Cullen pulled back his various blankets and climbed out of his bed. He made his way to his wardrobe; cool stone uncomfortably meeting the pads of his soles before he reached within and pulled on a thick robe. As he tightened the ropes about his hips, he absently rubbed at his parched mouth, approaching his various decanters of wine and water. Solas came to stand before him as Cullen brought a goblet of water to his lips, savoring its crisp refreshment.

"Give yourself today for personal evaluation and if you feel confident, you could potentially return to your regular duties on the morrow," Solas suggested, looking at Cullen over the rim of his mug as he loudly slurped at his tea.

"As you say Solas," Cullen acquiesced, bowing his head in thanks, "I… appreciate what you have done a great deal. It will not be forgotten."

Solas languidly waved Cullen's thanks away. "It's what comrades do, is it not? Besides, the lion's share of the work was upon Isabeau's shoulders," He crossed his arms and simpered knowingly at Cullen, "She was quite _dedicated_. Now, if only a modicum of that patience would consistently be applied to her other responsibilities…?" He playfully jabbed, making Cullen smirk in agreement.

"Yes, I intend on expressing my gratitude," Cullen's face softened as he reflected upon what he could recall of her labors, "Does the Inquisitor intend on coming this evening?"

"Alas no, Trevelyan was unfortunately forced yesterday to embark with Montilyet and others on a rather urgent trade matter," Solas eyebrows hiked up in amusement, "A little muscle never hurts in diplomacy, hm?"

"She is formidable," Cullen agreed, making his way to his solar as he began to reflect upon the past days he'd spent with her. Though utterly imperceptible when Isabeau reached full stride during war councils and battle engagements, Cullen had glimpsed what lay beneath her clout in their more private councils together. In contrast of her ferocious confidence, there was an endearing timidity that he'd come to discover when outside their defined roles.

In time, he knew his own carefully erected walls had begun to crumble one insecure stone at a time. It had taken Cullen many years to master his nightmares, startled and dismayed when he had discovered Isabeau both beneath and before his blade that night. While her intrusion was initially horrifying and utterly humiliating, Cullen had little choice but to swallow his resignations, taking solace in her discretion. If his Inquisitor had harbored any pre-existing suspicions with his conduct, he had certainly been exposed, but as of yet, Trevelyan had said nothing.

_Perhaps flowers or a fine meal, _before _a terrifying journey to the Fade, would have sufficed? _

He scoffed at his cynicism and reached for his razor, positioning himself before his water basin and looking glass, carefully beginning to tame his facial hair. In the reflection he saw Solas return to his parchment, affixing a wax seal just as Cullen swiped the last bit of oil and hair from his jaw.

Cullen surreptitiously sniffed at himself. Repulsed, he realized he was heavily overdue for a bath. He dismissed Solas and slipped his feet into his best soft leather boots, half-shuffling his way through the Keep and to its baths. The hour was early enough that the ancient Keep was eerily still, Cullen's absence of late from its usual controlled chaos leaving him oddly wanting. As he entered the hot pools tucked into the depths of the Keep, he lazily toed off his boots and allowed his robe and smalls to drop. After he tentatively waded into the pool, he paused only to reach and carefully fold his bundle of items. When he slowly sank himself down until the hot water settled over his broad shoulders, he couldn't stifle a deep groan of respite.

Much of the last few days remained a relative blur to Cullen, Solas and Isabeau's presence aside. True to their word though, the stalwart pair had seen Cullen through to the other side, more than his years of previous solitary attempts had ever achieved. While Cullen's over-analytical brain had wreaked havoc with the miasma that was his shame, for Isabeau's honor, he had buried his failure and consequent nightmare as deep as he could. Though difficult in practice, the constant battle for his moral compass within Isabeau's presence had begun to dissipate; Cullen had finding a clandestine succor instead. The fierce woman he had come to know and respect began to blur into this maddeningly charming but _different _person, Cullen finding he was increasingly looking forward to what he had come to call their 'little visits'.

_Not that you haven't... entertained the idea, previously._

That was true enough. He had furtively admired her for quite some time; able to recall the exact moment, while laboring over the war map at her side, that he had blinked with the sudden realization. In the time since, he had respectfully subdued the inconvenient and unprofessional feelings, only opening the debate when in the privacy of his bed chamber. Trevelyan's unexpected foray into the Fade had left him uncomfortably exposed on two fronts now. _Maker's breath, at least she hasn't throttled me yet. _

It was truly in Cullen's favor that Isabeau had not probed too deeply, but to his mild astonishment, their rapport had distinctly improved. There was now an endearing fluidity to their company, despite their stations, and both had relinquished a stone bit by bit from their walls as it proceeded. Cullen was not the naïve boy he had once been, feeling so sure in his intuition that he had attempted to act; so far though, he'd accomplished little more than choking on his efforts. The chiding he would unleash upon himself always swiftly followed, whatever bit of confidence that remained carefully being packed up and mindfully put away.

_Certainly did not lack for confidence last night. _Cullen smiled ruefully at himself._ And how well had __**that**__ went?_

Groaning, Cullen buried his face in his hands, fighting the urge to submerse himself in the water, the reflection on his dishonest behavior painful to recall. Solas had informed both Cullen and Isabeau ahead of time what they could expect in conduct and reaction during his reduction. It was not an unknown to Cullen, having usually locked himself in his quarters in previous attempts, though if Isabeau had legitimately discovered him in a fit of delusion, he could not say.

_That was not honorable. The lady did not deserve that falsity._

The truth in Cullen's nagging conscience could not be denied, no more than his ignominy at what he had allowed to develop within himself. For Cullen, the foundations of his growing admiration for the Inquisitor had already been firmly established in respect, its tendrils taking root over every shared tactic and victory, the two investing their unspoken trust into the other as time went on. Then in one night the careful balance they had cultivated was in shambles, Cullen feebly grappling for the remaining pieces as inconvenient truths harassed him incessantly.

He had been absolutely wracked with nerves upon first meeting with her, the illicit memories of the demons fresh at the forefront of his mind, but Isabeau's command and poise at the situation had served to assuage his concerns. It was that very grace of hers that served to flood Cullen with guilt for each morn he had awoken since, her name on his lips, and her naked body fresh in his vision.

When last night he had felt her fingers firmly pressing against his chest, interrupting his determined stupor, he had cursed his ill-advised and poorly timed mettle. It was all he could do to blunder his way through an apology, dishonorably taking advantage of both her care and his condition with the deception. In retrospect, as his skin puckered from the warm waters of the bath, the inappropriate timing of his advances appeared utterly reckless. _Was there _ever_ going to be a good time? The world is burning down around you and _**now**_ you sack up for a pair of teats?_

Cullen scowled at his fit of unwarranted vulgarity, deciding to climb out of the hot baths rather than get stuck in a bitter feedback loop. When he returned to his apartments, he immediately made his way to his wardrobe and armor stand to dress. As he went to tug his tunic down over his head, Cullen noted the bulk that was missing from his scarred and chiseled frame in the looking glass across from him. He'd have to invest some time between the larder and melee ring to regain his mass. Once he had securely fastened his fur pauldrons, Cullen left for the war room. _Solas did say to take the day for 'personal reflection', pity our definitions of what that entails happens to differ._

Idle hands were the demon's tool and Cullen intended on entrenching himself behind his duties, stemming the warring tides that were his ceaseless thoughts with duty rosters and troop movements. He was making his way through the Keep when he found himself passing a nearby balcony that overlooked the main yard, an eruption of panicked shouts and the thunder of hooves giving him pause. Leaning out to get a better look at the front gate, Cullen watched as several guards on horseback came crashing through. A disheveled Josephine and a battered Cassandra followed shortly behind them; a slumped, weightless thing joined Cassandra in the saddle, tucked between her arms. _Blood of Andraste…_

Cullen bolted for the stairs, the chaos of the arrival sending the yard into a flurry of action. He shoved his way forward, bursting from the circle surrounding Josephine, Cassandra and a lieutenant who were all gingerly picking Isabeau off the saddle.

"What happened?" He demanded as he descended upon them.

"Does it matter? She needs healing not tarrying!" Jospehine snapped, Cullen's eyes sent ablaze as he swallowed her insolence. Carefully, he took Isabeau in his arms and hefted, feeling the strain in his weakened state from her weight and remaining armor. Cullen strode as fast as he could manage to Solas' chambers, immensely relieved to find the elf already within. Josephine and Cassandra had been hot on Cullen's heels, the pair bursting into the room in a roar of explanations. While the two women could exude confidence and control, the aberrant unpleasantness of the situation was clear in their panic. Cullen raised a hand to silence them both.

"Explain," he quietly demanded before further clarifying, "_One_ at a time, if you would please."

"We were ambushed. Those cursed red templars are harassing our supply lines again," Josephine asserted, furiously rewrapping a torn bandage around one bloody arm. "They'll put our trade to ruin if their numbers increase and they are allowed to grow bold, Cullen. I _need_ more armed men on patrol. I _asked_ this of you weeks ago and here is the fruition of your inaction," she snapped jutting an arm toward Isabeau's prone yet breathing form.

Fury battered like a siege ram behind Cullen's eyes but he pursed his lips, assuming his stoniest façade as he calmly turned away from Josephine and looked upon Cassandra. "You were to guard her. How were you caught so unawares?"

Cassandra had by now regained her composure, always quick to leap from hot to cold and shrugged as she stared Cullen down. "It is the truth. We were overrun, held our ground but to this cost. Take solace in the fact they are dead while she yet lives."

The two turned to look at Solas who was focused on his spell craft, motes of soft blue and yellow light dancing around Isabeau. He only briefly looked up to nod at Cullen, confirming that he had the matter, Isabeau's life, under control. Cullen looked down at the smeared stains of blood that now stained his tunics, his fists clenching as he fought to find his calm. He was growing increasingly alarmed by his reaction to the state of affairs. _I should have been with her. Maker's breath, if I had not been such a stubborn arse, an allocation of my men could have avoided this. _He frowned at the panicked thought_, _fully aware that their numbers were taxed enough as it was, Cullen opting to file Josephine's info away for later contemplation.

"We will discuss your generous conjecture regarding my troop allocations at a different time, Josephine," he met her furious amber eyes as he nodded at her in dismissal. He turned to Cassandra as Josephine left, "Red templar's? Since when did a mere raiding party become problematic, Cass?"

"Cullen, the roads have been clear for months, we had no reason to suspect. Besides myself and a few other guards though, the bulk of the envoy were some of our master smiths and traders. Some held their own but…" she trailed off, her implications clear. "Trevelyan was taken unawares in the fray. I intervened as soon as I could, but the blade was already upon her back. All I fear I prevented was it coming out from the other side."

He visibly winced.

"Enough. I will speak more of this with you later," he turned and made his way to Isabeau's side, a hand coming up to cup his mouth and chin as he crossed his arms. He watched intently as the bloody wounds faded to little more than blemishes and bruises, Solas' soft chanting strumming at his ears. Cullen swallowed and privately thanked the Maker, an old and tired confliction distantly present as he felt a swell of unexpected affection towards the elf. He reached and took Isabeau's hand in his. _You are a fool; this war would tear it apart…_

Strands of soft hair slid between Cullen's fingers as he reached down and gently raked them through Isabeau's tresses. Solas ceased his uttering and proceeded to uncork various potions.

"Give us a hand, Cullen," he commanded as he brought a potion to the Inquisitor's lips, Cullen gingerly lifting her into a sitting position. As the red liquid poured between her dry lips, Isabeau began to cough and sputter; the first signs of her consciousness returning as she whimpered in discomfort. Cullen courteously averted his eyes as Solas moved to undress his patient, leaving when her chemise and bodice were crumpled in her lap. He returned to rapidly apply a poultice to Isabeau's now healing wound, cinching a cloth bandage around her back and waist before carefully tugging her articles of clothing back on. He then came up behind Cullen, taking his place and steadying her as the templar knelt before his superior.

"Inquisitor?"

She blinked slowly at him, wincing from some pain as she smiled, "Thank you, Cullen… Your prompt delivery of my person to Solas is appreciated."

Solas stepped back and regarded Isabeau, nodding kindly as he rubbed her blood from his hands, "You know the drill by now, Inquisitor. Come to me should you require assistance but otherwise, kindly avoid Bull and Sera at all costs. And may the dread wolf take you if I catch you in that sparring ring for a tenth time! Now, if you'll excuse me." Solas politely inclined his head before stepping from the room, Cullen left gaping at the elf's levity. Isabeau must have caught the message in his expression for she reached out with both hands to squeeze his shoulders assuredly.

"This is not the first time my entrails have graced this cot, Cullen."

He grimaced at the casual declaration. True, it had been some time since he and Isabeau had fought side by side, but at the conclusion of her excursions away, she would return t, sometimes worse for wear but usually in one piece. Cullen was too well versed in war to harbor any wide-eyed illusions, instead finding he was poignantly humbled by her. He had committed himself to her as a Marshall, but when embroiled in the ruthless calculus of the war, the ability to disconnect was a grim necessity of his duty. The Inquisitor was more than a mere foot soldier but she met the enemy at close quarters and always at the head of the charge. _How many times did she return battered and bloodied and I'd been too accursedly busy with a map or quill?_

He pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation, _as many times as you've put that quill to the map. _Cullen's insides twisted as he wrestled with the chiding voice, "I'm… not sure if you want me to express relief at that assurance, my lady."

Isabeau smiled tiredly at him then, "Go on then, help a _lady_ in distress once more and get me to my chambers, ser Knight."

He helped her off the mattress, their arms slinging over the others' as Cullen supported her weight, the pair slowly making their way to Isabeau's apartments. He guided her to her bed chamber, carefully helping to settle her atop the bed.

"Do you have much pain?"

She shook her head, "I'll be… tender for a few days but nothing I can't handle," She stood and reached up, working on loosening the laces of her bloody, tattered bodice. "Solas has become quite excellent at putting me back together again. A pity…" She abruptly sighed, gnawing at her nails in silent contemplation.

"…A pity your spleen ended up in the right place?"

Isabeau laughed at him incredulously, "No, you git. A pity those red bastards got at it in the first place!" She groaned loudly as she rubbed her hand tiredly down her face, the other dramatically tossing her ruined bodice to the floor. "We lost Herren. Wade is going to become either very useless or very dead as a direct result, _and _I won't be getting my bloody salt."

Cullen was immediately contrite_. Maker preserve us._

The loss of Herren was a blow, their discriminating but skilled armor smith would be devastated at the news, but Cullen could not attest to the validity of Isabeau's distress. Wade was an asset of war, and to Cullen, war had its consequences with its victories. Given a suitable amount of time, he believed Wade would take strength in his loss and endure.

There were two thumps as Isabeau tugged off her muddy boots, sighing in relief as she ambled over to her collection of wines and spirits. Cullen recognized a particular Fereldan scotch in her hands, its amber fluid one he himself had partaken of on occasion. He followed her as she moseyed out into her solar, fetching two glasses before waving Cullen towards a seat. The chamber was sparse but tastefully decorated; a low standing table and two very plush _chaise longues_ at its center. Isabeau roughly set her handful of debauchery upon the table with a clatter of glass, working at the bottle's cork.

"I just… wanted some damn salt," she lamented again, filling her glass with several fingers worth of the aged liquid before hovering the bottle above the glass facing him, "Drink?"

"Please," he said as he took a seat on a chaise, joining Isabeau as she raised her glass in a toast.

"To Herren and Wade!" she cried, their glasses clinking before both swiftly tilted their heads back, Cullen's throat and chest pleasantly warmed by the alcohol. Isabeau immediately filled another, Cullen cupping his glass with his hand as he gently shook his head at her.

"That was… sufficient for me, thank you."

"More for me," she quipped as she sat across from him, propping her feet up against the edges of the heavy table. "Did you see the others?"

When Cullen nodded in answer, she leaned an elbow against the seat's arm, resting the side of her head on her first. She idly swigged from her drink, "If Cassandra had testicles, she'd have popped one there on the road. Maker, it was almost embarrassing, how did we overlook such an obvious choke point?"

Impulsively, Cullen rebelled against his previous discretion and reached to refill his glass. He quickly knocked back the drink as he bitterly rued her words, evidence surfacing of the complications from his recent absence. Isabeau had stood then, coming to slowly sit beside him as she finished her last gulp of scotch. She tilted her head and silently regarded him, Cullen returning her gaze expectantly as he admired her smoky, oval eyes.

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Isabeau stretched, carefully adjusting herself to sit comfortably with her wound, her thigh briefly pressing against Cullen's. She tucked her feet up and under her, "From what you've told me, your attempts at Lyrium cessation go as far back as Kirkwall."

"That is correct..."

"If you would forgive my candor, I'd like to ask why?" She evenly met his gaze, the flesh of her cheeks alight in various hues of red. Her long ashen hair, usually tied back in a loose pony tail, now fell in lazy waves atop her shoulders. Cullen paused in appreciation.

_Maker she is…stunning_.

He coughed into his hand, feeling his own cheeks grow hot as he contemplated his answer. He found himself yet again pouring a drink, silencing his nagging scruples over the consumption.

"Am I too bold?"

_One could argue not bold enough. _

Cullen squashed the thought and smiled apologetically, "Not at all, my lady. It is only proper for me to account for my actions." He nervously licked at his lips and continued, "Since my torment in Fereldan, I have increasingly grown… wary of the use of Lyrium. It wasn't until I was promoted to Knight-Captain that I truly committed to the ideal. Sobriety became increasingly attractive as my tasks began to include the, ah… dismissal of _afflicted_ comrades."

Isabeau's eyebrows furrowed questioningly, "Lyrium addled?"

"It was rampant in Kirkwall," Cullen said hauntingly as he stared blankly ahead, "Per Meredith's orders, it was done quietly and efficiently, but I can still recall my astonishment at the numbers. I was fighting a war on both fronts, bleeding men lost to the dust as I struggled to replenish the ranks with recruits."

"I thought all templar's developed a… dependence on Lyrium?"

Cullen sighed and shook his head as he readied himself for the tired debate, "Though I feel it a misconception... too many of the men I stripped were no older than I, broken far too early. While it is true that exposure to the substance _over time_ can affect cognitive functions, all of the Order's texts lay out strict consumption guidelines. Guidelines developed to mitigate any detrimental effects," He clarified as he stood and began to pace with drink in hand, "When I looked over Kirkwall's allocation schedules, it became abundantly clear these guidelines had long since been abandoned."

Isabeau narrowed her eyes, "I don't understand. Your official texts dictate the prescription but… not its application?"

Mid-pace Cullen paused and turned to face Isabeau, shaking his head, "No, the texts are clear for both, I fear it is the_ interpretation_ that went wrong. At the time I couldn't draw many conclusions from the change, I was still yet new to my station. Once I was more firmly situated however, Meredith's… _disciplinary_ orders began to go through me…" He bitterly stared down at the liquid in his glass, swallowing it quickly and placing the glass on the mantle above the hearth. He leaned with the palms of his hands pressed to the warm stone, gazing into the licking flames, "It was then that I appreciated the sinister implications behind these _revisions_."

He pushed away from the hearth and sat himself rather heavily beside her again, "If you are wondering if she gave credit to the rumors, yes, she very much did. She was my Commander however, I wanted to believe her cause was just… but it only led to the rebellion of my men, their sympathy easier to come by when united with the mages in their suffering."

Isabeau placed a hand consolingly atop Cullen's muscular thigh, "Meredith was insane, Cullen. Whatever vicious tampering she did to your knight's doses, surely Kirkwall was an isolated incident? Forgive my being frank, but that city's a perpetual quagmire of misery more oft than not."

"That's where you're mistaken, my lady. I still had friends far spread in the Order by then, friends who confirmed my suspicions with investigations of their own," he haltingly swallowed as Meredith's dying screams invaded his thoughts. "It wasn't until Meredith's… corruption that I came to truly fit all of the pieces together."

Cullen felt a squeeze at his thighs, Isabeau's hand digging into his leather breeches as he met her concerned eyes. When recruiting templar's to the Inquisition's cause, Cullen had not had to explain his motivations in splitting from the Order. Most of the men who had followed him after the schism had bore witness to the growing corruption, or worse, were victims of the abuse themselves. Those who still had lingering complications from their torture usually maintained their lyrium habits; Cullen having noted that, if kept to the Order's canonical guidelines, they functioned in relative normalcy.

Where he was treading now was unfamiliar territory, Cullen finding himself distractedly embarrassed with the onslaught of angst.

_Are you so craven? She didn't ask why everyone else stopped, she asked why __**you**__ stopped. _

He cracked his knuckles nervously and submitted, "A-at the start, it was cowardice that compelled me to skip doses. The visions of Uldred's… depravity haunted me at all manner of times, and I began to suspect the lyrium in my paranoia, lashing out at my charges as a result. The consequences of my delusions lead to Greenfell, where blessedly, I came to appreciate the value of temperance, in all things..."

He swallowed hard as Isabeau's travelling hand gave him pause, a sorrowful smile tugging at his lips as she affectionately clutched his fingers within hers. She smiled encouragingly at him as she tugged off his soft leather gloves, Cullen jolting when she began to tenderly massage his palm.

"Ooh, Maker that's… nice," he moaned unexpectedly as the stiffness in his sword hand was eased away, the sensation momentarily snapping him from his unease. After an awkward clearing of his throat, Cullen shyly avoided her eyes as he continued, "Where was I? Temperance, was it?"

Isabeau blushed, playfully quirking her eyebrow at him. Before Cullen could continue however, she quickly snatched up the bottle of scotch, her lips smacking wetly as she sipped from its neck. When she held it out to him, Cullen took a generous swig, Isabeau's hands now working at his forearm.

"As ah… as I had mentioned to you previously, Kirkwall did little and less for my faculties, especially in that first year…" he trailed off as the memories attempted to resurface, the feel of Trevelyan's hands keeping them blessedly at bay. "In retrospect, it's easy to see how my initial… zealotry likely appealed to her, but it made climbing the ranks no less a trial."

"Meredith is but one, I would know more of the others involved in this treachery," Isabeau said with unexpected ferocity, "These were your superior officers, you were not wrong to trust in them. They were wrong to have broken that trust." Her eyebrows rose in pained suspicion, "Were you ever… denied?"

He let out a shallow breath as he delicately grasped her wrists in his rough hands.

"Yes, and it was at that first crack of the whip… that I understood how precariously the Order was perched." He hesitated, his thoughts growing heavy as Isabeau's hands pulled away to cup his jaw. He leaned into her touch, speaking in throaty whispers, "Everything went hurtling over the precipice, and I would have too, had I not tried to remove that collar. Poetic, but it felt like a shallow victory… at times, it still does. The… relapses however, have always plagued my efforts."

Isabeau's face was pressed so closely her nose had nudged softly at the side of his, Cullen's lips twitching rebelliously at the proximity of her own. Trevelyan swallowed audibly and began to pull away, Cullen burying the odd mingle of relived disappointment, until her arms came to wrap around his shoulders. She embraced him warmly while he sat there, stupidly stunned by the unexpected action.

_That's… this- _this… _hm. This has never happened before._

Cullen softly chuckled, finding he was surprisingly placated by her curious tenderness, if not a bit circumspect. After he rubbed her back in turn, Isabeau pulled back, Cullen smirking at her sheepishness.

"I'm sorry," she shrugged apologetically, "Was raised to be a bit of a hugger."

"It was… not unwelcome, my lady."

She beamed at him then, standing to stretch and let out a great yawn, "Heh, well, before the scotch fills me with more ill-advised courage, I think I should bid you good night, Ser Cullen."

When Cullen stood to walk with her, he too, felt the effects of their somber riot. He absently berated himself over each drink, his body already in an undermined state. Once at the doors of her solar, Cullen paused at the threshold, turning to grasp and raise Isabeau's hand. He gently kissed her knuckles and pulled away, "I have come to cherish our little chats, Inquisitor. Your candor with all things is refreshing in a time of so much deception."

Isabeau smiled warmly, pulling her hand away to cup the underside of his jaw, squeezing affectionately. "The lion likes a good roar, does he?"

_The lion dares for more._

Cullen turned his head slightly to the side, bringing the palm of Isabeau's hands to his lips, kissing softly before pulling away and striding from her apartments. _Not running away… gallantly departing._ The alcohol had wrought a bit of havoc, Cullen finding it more difficult than usual to quiet his racing mind. He went directly to his bed chamber, sinking onto his bed, his hands dangling between his legs in consternation.

_Entirely too bold, she's going to smack me soon._

He briefly considered the possible gains to a good flogging before immediately disqualifying them in embarrassment. He was tired and definitely pretty _pissed_ from the scotch, removing only his pauldrons and boots before he climbed under the blankets and into bed.

As he slipped comfortably into sleep, he could not help but grin.


	6. Chapter 6

"Sandal, no!"

Isabeau cringed and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, unable to watch as the curious dwarf went toppling over the balcony's ledge. When she chanced to open an eye, she looked down and watched as Sandal released his grip on the heavy fabric of a hanging banner, solidly but safely landing on two feet in the yard below. She blew out a sigh of exasperated relief, looking down as she triumphantly tossed her trinket in the air before catching it again.

_That boy makes off with all manner of my things. Am I the only one he torments? _She rolled her eyes as she went and placed the random statue back in her solar, rueing the start to her day. The Inquisition had been burdened so long with an endless slew of responsibilities that Isabeau had balked with shock at her advisor's combined reports earlier that morn. She was surprised to find all three in agreement for an intermission during the lull, Isabeau unable to truly find argument with giving her companions a rest.

With their morning council ended, Isabeau had walked somewhat aimlessly about the Keep, not entirely sure what she would do with her sudden leisure. It was as she headed for her apartments that she had come across Sandal, the prize in his arms distinctly familiar as he had careened past her, exuberantly shouting 'shiny!'

_Well, chasing Sandal about Skyhold certainly filled some time. _

In the month following the disastrous trade envoy, Isabeau had been at the Keep very little, a flurry of obligations and diplomatic engagements nearly swallowing her whole. Bodahn and Sandal had arrived just before her departure to deal with the troublesome Reds, the boy's enchanting skills well appreciated by Isabeau. Even if he did drive her a tad batty at times. She had only just finished the arrangements for Herren's funeral when she had been called to the Bannorn, leaving the memorial in Josephine and Cullen's capable hands.

_Speaking of…_

Isabeau had seen Cullen very little since their rebellious evening, wondering if he had fared any better in its aftermath than she. While on the road and in the privacy of her tent, Isabeau had frequently recalled the night with fondness, finding it increasingly easier to silence her chastising conscience. Cullen had willingly bared something very private, Isabeau moved by his readiness and trust in her. More and more the reservations she'd painstakingly harbored began to diminish; memories much more treasured steadily supplanting the demons' place in her dreams and thoughts.

Laughter interrupted those thoughts now as it echoed down the towering hallway, Isabeau smiling in anticipation as she made her way into the main dining hall. Dorian, Varric and Sera sat with tankards brimming with ale at a table nearby, laughing loudly as Varric regaled them with what was surely another tale. Bull also appeared from the buttery, noticing Isabeau and waving her over to the table, setting his second tankard before her. Isabeau gave her thanks and took a deep swig.

"Come on Sera, just one?"

"Don't be a twat, Varric."

"Think of the profit!"

Sera grimaced in playful revulsion, "Feck off! If you think I'm mad enough to provide you with story fodder, you're a special kind of git!" She nodded towards Isabeau, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, "Go on, have a go at her again."

Isabeau raised her hands and tankard in wary surrender, "Varric…"

He scoffed dramatically, "Come on Sera, I need fresh material!" He leered at Isabeau then, "No disrespect, of course, Inks."

"I'm devastated."

Varric gave a lazy shrug, "Eh. Commander and Conqueror had a good run."

Ale exploded from Isabeau's lips to her companion's immense amusement, "I beg your pardon?"

Dorian smiled cheekily at her then, sipping at his goblet of wine as he cocked an eyebrow at her, "You've not read it? I know it's a favourite amongst Skyhold's denizens; even _I_ couldn't put it down."

"I read it for the sex," Bull nonchalantly declared, finishing the last of his tankard in three deep gulps.

Isabeau groaned into her tankard, taking another generous swig before face planting into her arms upon the table. Her companions seemed to take great joy in teasing her about Cullen, sometimes filling an entire trip on the road with the light-hearted banter. Isabeau knew, or at least wanted to _feel_ like she knew, Varric would never actually write a filthy novel about she and Cullen's blooming friendship. Privately, when she over-analyzed their mischief, she wondered if they weren't entirely wrong. _Even if I am cultivating anything, they _certainly _don't need to know about it._

"Terribly sorry to disappoint but no, I haven't read any books of late that involve randy Templars," she raised her head and countered, finishing her last sip of ale before tugging her legs from the bench. She stood and crossed her arms, bending forward a bit as she rocked on the balls of her feet, "And I _certainly_ have not read anything about sexually frustrated Inquisitors."

She made her exit to the sound of raucous laughter, bouncing down the stairs that led to the Keep's main yard. Her speedy consumption of the ale had left her with a pleasant lightness, Isabeau deciding to stop and chat with the assortment of laborers and soldiers populating the bustling yard. She had sadly noted Wade and Herren's absence as she approached the smithing pit, opting to discuss steel with one of their apprentices instead. As she chatted amiably with the young man, she caught sight of Cullen striding from a gate opposite her, his sparring attire giving away where the templar was spending his down time. She hastily excused herself and jogged to catch up with him.

"Lady Trevelyan," he said in greeting, stopping as she came up beside him, one hand rubbing a cloth at the sweat upon his neck. "I trust you're enjoying your day."

"I have no idea what to do with myself," she airily confessed, digging the toe of her boot into the ground. "My biggest excitement so far has been chasing Sandal."

Cullen quirked an eyebrow at her, "You… chased Sandal?"

"He's not a dwarf, he's a bloody magpie. This is the third time I've caught him knicking things from my rooms!" Cullen chuckled at her misfortune before offering his arm to her, Isabeau looping her own through it as they walked in companionable silence.

"You're looking much improved, Cullen," Isabeau said as she playfully knocked her shoulder into his, "I am happy to see it."

He gazed down at her beside him, smiling in thanks, "It is kind of you to say so." He then paused and turned to face Isabeau, a wily grin uncharacteristically sharpening his features, "If the lady is bereft of activities for the day, I could… have a potential solution, if she were so inclined?"

Isabeau tilted her head, pressing a finger to her lips in facetious contemplation, "The lady is listening and considering her inclination…"

The corners of Cullen's eyes wrinkled as he beamed at her. "Permit me time to change into something more suitable, then I will find you at the stables," he inclined his head and turned to leave, Isabeau shaking her own head in bemusement as she made her way to gather their saddles.

She kindly waved away the stable hands who intended to assist, taking enjoyment in the task of readying hers and Cullen's mounts; the latter's impressive destrier nipping at her now for carrots. She held her palm teasingly flat, sniggering as the horse's soft, agile lips nibbled at her one hand while her other buckled the straps of his bridle. Goliath was a great beast with an obsidian coat, his billowing mane and tail beautifully long, Isabeau delighted by the soft black feathers around his hooves. Her blue roan palfry, Vita, did not have the size of Goliath, but she was a sure footed thing, Isabeau finding her ambling walk quite comfortable during long journeys.

As she finished tacking the two horses and lead them out into the yard, Cullen came bouncing down the stairs across from her. He was dressed in a simple long-sleeved tunic, with a wide leather belt cinched about his waist and knee-high riding boots snug upon his solid legs. A fur-trimmed cloak of deep green billowed behind him, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword buckled to his side as he walked towards her. Isabeau unabashedly admired the sight of him dressed so casually. She deliberately looked him up from down as he gently took Goliath's reins from her hands, absently wondering if his ears had ever been that particular shade of red before.

"Does the lady find my attire unacceptable?" He smiled intriguingly as he asked, climbing into the saddle as Isabeau hauled herself atop Vita.

"There's a distinct lack of fur I'm not sure I approve of."

"Ah, well, I shall have to kill some helpless creatures today to remedy that."

Isabeau barked out a laugh as they made their way through Skyhold's impressive main gate, lazily loping across the expansive bridge that connected the Keep to the opposite cliffs. She cocked an eyebrow at Cullen beside her, "Are you going to expand on this 'solution' of yours now?"

"And lay ruin to your unbridled anticipation? Absolutely not..." Cullen jested before he unexpectedly spurred Goliath, taking off at a gallop as the great animal kicked up pebbles and snow behind its powerful legs. Isabeau urged Vita after him, the pair recklessly pounding the hard mountain paths as she took chase. She revelled in the cool air whipping through her hair, the agile Vita easily matching Goliath's pace as Isabeau cried out in delight behind Cullen. They careened around a sharp corner, their horse's hooves slipping slightly on the loose gravel, before shouts of alarm and panic ripped Isabeau from her exuberance. Cullen and Goliath had hugged the pass's natural walls, avoiding any collision with the approaching caravan, but Vita was at full-stride in the center, Isabeau leaning forward in the saddle as the nimble beast leapt and soared over a cart in their path.

Cullen chanced a quick look back in the saddle, smirking competitively at Isabeau as he yet again took the lead. Isabeau gave Vita another spurring, making herself as small as possible as she raised herself from the saddle, releasing her grip on the reins to clutch the horse's mane as she gave Vita full control. They raced down Skyhold's mountain passes, the pair finally exploding from the path's entrance at the base of the highlands, Isabeau shooting her arms out wide in exultation as she went flying past Cullen.

Falling forward in the saddle, she affectionately hugged Vita's powerful neck, patting her flank in appreciation as they slowed. She took the reins back in hand and turned her palfry to find Cullen and Goliath trotting towards them. A hand ran through her now tangled tresses as she smirked triumphantly at the approaching knight.

_I must look positively wild_.

"Do you accept defeat, Ser?"

Cullen tugged at the reins, steering Goliath towards the path that lead to the small village at the bottom of Skyhold's mountains. Isabeau followed, watching as Cullen seemed to consider, "What are the lady's terms?"

"Forgive me, but I will have to defer to my advisors' before we can treat further," she jested, Cullen's throaty chuckle rolling over her as they made their way along the populated road. All manner of people had flocked to Skyhold's lands, the small village becoming increasingly settled as more refugees and tradesmen flocked to the Keep's doorstep. As they ambled past, numerous folks greeted her with various titles of respect ranging from 'Inquisitor' to 'Your Eminence'. If Isabeau were to be honest, she still had a hard time adjusting to the reverence some bestowed upon her.

_Better than the alternative. They _could _be lopping your head off._

They stopped and tied their hoses to a post outside the lone tavern of the town, Isabeau taking the arm Cullen again extended, before strolling to peruse the various stalls of the small market. As she appreciated the trinkets of one merchant's wares, Cullen broke from her and moseyed off towards a scribe's various texts. Isabeau's eyes fell upon a rather imposing necklace, its band of thick, woven black leather paired with a sparkling chunk of quartz. The stone had been cut into many impressive facets, Isabeau handing over her coin to the vendor as thoughts of Sandal's escapades returned.

_This should keep the little bugger occupied._

"Lady Inquisitor?"

Isabeau turned at the young man's voice.

"Ser Keran, well met," she said as she extended and shook the hand of the fair knight who had approached her. Keran had been a part of Cullen's original templar constituents from Kirkwall, a green but dedicated young man who had taken up the Inquisition's cause. He scratched idly at the back of his head, nodding his own greet.

"Good day, my lady. Are you in town on Inquisition business?"

She softly chuckled her dissent, "Ah, no. It... is a day of rare quiet for the organization. Ser Cullen and I deigned to spend it wisely."

"Ser Cullen?" Keran coughed into his hand, "I won't keep you then. Best I return to my duties..." He trailed off, Isabeau amused by his bashful restraint.

"As you were, Ser Keran."

The young lad gave a swift bow before promptly walking towards the perimeter of the village, Isabeau shaking her head amusedly at Cullen's potency. As she made her way to the tables crowded with assorted texts and tomes, a young woman with raven hair approached her with a wide-eyed baby nestled into the crook of her arm.

"Maker bless you, Inquisitor."

"And you," she replied with a respectful bow of her head, giving the young woman's hand an encouraging squeeze before coming up beside Cullen, her hip leaning against the stall. She crossed her arms and took in the sight of the small but bustling community, a satisfied smile spreading across her lips as she felt a swell of affection for those she protected. She sidled her hip over slightly to bump it into Cullen's thigh, a sudden rush of saucy boldness taking over.

"So... partake in the commerce, perhaps get a bite to eat... and then we rampantly rip each other's clothes off?"

The book that was open in Cullen's hand promptly snapped shut as he looked up and stared ahead in bewilderment, "I beg your pardon?"

Isabeau snorted and pushed off from her lean against the table, "Come on then, that ride's left me a tad famished."

Cullen nodded his head compliantly, exchanging some coins for the book that yet remained in his hand. He tucked it under his arm as he followed Isabeau to the doors of the tavern, the pair slipping past patrons as they made for a bench in the back corner. The alehouse was positively buzzing with activity, numerous troops of theirs drinking merrily amongst themselves and scattered civilians. Isabeau covered her smile with a hand as a particularly buxom tavern girl was humorously pulled into the arms of a bearded soldier, the two sharing in their revelry; the girl's breasts almost bubbling out of her bodice. As the young woman disentangled herself from the embrace, she ambled over to where Cullen and Isabeau sat, her eyes widening in shock.

"Inquisitor! You _honor_ us!" she bowed reverently as she hastily straightened her bodice and apron, "What can I bring you?"

Isabeau raised two fingers, "I would ask two tankards of your best mead firstly," she began before quirking her head in curiosity, "and what is currently roasting on the spit?"

"Leg of lamb, your eminence."

She turned her head to look at Cullen, the quiet templar nodding his head in agreement.

"That will do nicely."

The girl blusteringly bowed again and stalked off towards the back of the establishment, returning shortly after with two very impressive and very full drinking horns. Isabeau raised hers; Cullen mirroring her as the two clunked them together, drinking deeply of the pleasant brew. The horn remained cupped in her hand as she thoughtfully regarded Cullen.

"Feels a bit... surreal, doesn't it?"

After swallowing another careful sip of his mead, he nodded in agreement, "We have certainly lacked for... well, normalcy." He paused as a rather large pair of teats levelled at his forehead, the tavern's curvy mistress returning with their meal. She placed the trenchers carefully before them, thanking them for their patronage before bustling away.

Isabeau absently hummed her consensus at Cullen's remark, picking a steaming chunk of turnip from her trencher before savoring its butter-slavered goodness. She looked at Cullen evenly as she finished chewing, "And how fare your current efforts at the endeavor?"

"I have done well resisting any... temptations, if the lady is wondering. Yours and Solas' aid besides, our increasingly regular engagements with the red templar's are usually good for a swift kick in the arse."

Chuckling into the horn of her mead, Isabeau drank to her relief. The victory over Cullen's enslavement was yet young, but she respected his labours and wanted to trust in his abilities. The progress so far bode well, Isabeau having long since thrown herself to the mercies of their novel rapport's current. The informality to their interactions, when outside Inquisitorial duties, had since fallen into a comfortable rhythm; though, they saw each other little of late. She had endeavoured on her time away to relinquish her nerves, at least over her and Cullen, knowing she had a modicum of control in the dilemma. Though the other matters had to be left to the fates of time, the cautious exposure of Cullen's own intentions had given her a starting point.

They finished their meals in relative silence between them, several drinking horns having made their way to their table by the time they finished, the tavern's patrons now aware of her identity. When a group of bards began to play a bouncing, lively tune, Isabeau had relented to the respectful advances of a young soldier, pulled from her seat and into the crowd to dance and sing. As she spun and drank, she made sure to catch Cullen's eyes occasionally, her advisor's own smiles plain to see.

"To the Inquisitor!"

Someone cheered loudly, horns and tankards collectively raising high throughout the tavern. Isabeau cheered enthusiastically in turn, tipping back her horn to chug down the remainder of her mead within. She had made the rounds after, making an effort to visit with each group's tables, when finally she caught the hostess, pushing a pouch of gold into her hands.

"For your troubles tonight; kindly see they're well watered and fed," she said before striding back to where Cullen still sat, wondering how he was reading his book in the poor light.

"Not much for dancing, are you?"

Cullen took a measured sip from his horn, "I believe yours sufficed for the both of us."

"Are you saying I'm a poor dancer?"

"Yes."

Isabeau plucked the book from between his hands, gently rapping him on the head with it in retaliation. She tapped it against her palm several times before flipping it over, reading the finely embossed letters, _Commander and Conqueror_...

"Oh, fuck off," she cursed, dropping the book from her gaze as she gaped incredulously at Cullen. The usually stoic man burst into a fit of hearty laughter, reaching to take the book from Isabeau's hands before peeling off the false cover. Now calm to see the tome was actually a relatively normal title, _On Demons, _Isabeau flung herself back upon the bench, admiring the duplicates craftsmanship. She shook her head in pleasant disbelief before raising an eyebrow at Cullen.

"You and Varric? Truly?"

Cullen sniggered into his fist a little longer before clearing his throat, "He, ah, _caught_ me when I passed the dining hall. You can't ever say he's not... opportunistic. When he learned of my intentions for our afternoon, well..."

"I don't even think I can be mad. In fact, I'm a little amazed," she teased, reaching to intertwine her fingers in his. Cullen paused in his efforts to drink, his eyes falling on their clasped hands. He tilted his wrist and raised their hands to his lips, gently kissing her palm as he steadily met her gaze. The sounds of the booming tavern seemed to die away, a bard's quiet, somber tune teasing her ears as Isabeau felt every inch of her redden from more than the mead.

"Cullen," she began, but he abruptly set his horn down on the battered table. He rose, and with their hands still clasped, came about to her side of the table. She rose and followed him into the crowd, rushing warmth spreading from her chest as he pulled her close, her head resting on his shoulder. Cullen had not released her hand, instead he lead her with it, the dance in no way intricate but lovely all the same. She turned her head so her nose nuzzled into his neck as they rocked back and forth.

_Oh, just be out with it you fool._

Isabeau swallowed thickly, her one arm sliding up Cullen's ribs to grasp at the shoulders of his cloak as their torsos pressed tightly together. She allowed herself to sink into his embrace, unabashedly appreciating the knight's bulk. As she opened her mouth to speak, Cullen tilted his head down, gently brushing his lips at the nape of her neck.

"I've grown... fond of you, Trevelyan."

She sucked in a shallow breath, her fingers twitching as she clutched his shoulder, "And I you, Ser Cullen..."

They continued to dance silently until the melody ended, Isabeau feeling flushed again as they broke apart, several of the tavern's patrons smiling knowingly in their direction. She laughed shyly, grasping Cullen's forearms in her hands before she released them and stepped back, "We... should head back, before the paths grow too dark."

"As you will, my lady."

They sombrely made their way to where Goliath and Vita had been watered and tended, climbing into their saddles before plodding down the pebbled road. After they had made their way out of the village, their journey up the mountains in the eventide was adversely different from the trek down earlier. Isabeau distractedly admired the way the setting sun stained the snow-caps a rich salmon colour, she and Cullen greeting the various soldiers they happened upon during the incline.

By the time night had arrived, Skyhold's main gate appeared in the distance as the couple crossed the Keep's expansive bridge, Isabeau sighing in relief once within the confines of its walls. She slid off Vita, two stable hands already taking the reins of her and Cullen's mounts, smacking at her breeches to rid them of accumulated dirt. She ran a hand through her hair as Cullen intently strode toward her.

"Would you do me the pleasure of joining me in my solar, Lady Trevelyan?"

Isabeau blew the rebellious wisps of hair from her face, her heat beating loudly in her ears, "Ah, y-yes, might I just head back to my apartments to... freshen up from the ride?"

Cullen inclined his head before turning and making for his own quarters. Isabeau numbly patted at Vita's thick neck as she watched him leave, the timid stable boy looking at her quizzically.

"Lady Inquisitor? If - well, iff'n you don't mind...?"

"Oh, yes! ...Sorry," sheepishly she pulled away from her horse, both hands now rising to rake through her hair, one clasping the tie of her pony tail. As the tresses tumbled around her neck, she strode quickly towards her apartments, near-crashing through the door as she made for her wardrobe. Much to Vivienne's constant dismay, Isabeau was not a woman of finer tastes; it was at that moment, with the wardrobe's doors open wide, that the Inquisitor could oddly empathize with the stylish mage.

As she dug through her various combat oriented articles, she cried out in frustration at her decidedly unfeminine wardrobe. She rocked back onto her heels as she stared dejectedly at the clothing vomited across her floor, a stroke of desperation sending her shooting for her door as she jogged to Leliana's apartments.

"Inquisitor?"

"I need help!" She sighed at the sight of Leliana's surprised features as they appeared from the other side, barreling into the bard's solar before pacing back and forth by its hearth.

A faint titter escaped Leliana's lips as she ignored Isabeau's dramatics and made for her bed chamber. When she returned, she coughed until Isabeau looked her way in attention, a fine but simple _cotehardie _draped over her arms. The long, burnished red garment had delicate gold dandelions embroidered along its low-rising bodice, its belt a string of matching medallions meant to accentuate her hips. Isabeau felt her jaw drop as she lunged for the garment, raising her eyes to smile in appreciative astonishment at her advisor.

"You... are truly amazing," she beamed, affectionately hugging the red head.

Leliana gave a rare smile in return, guiding Isabeau towards her bed chambers, "It is the least I can do for my friend. You will wear it well." They quickly stripped Isabeau and got the dress upon her, Leliana kind enough to tame Isabeau's wild tresses into an elegant Orlesian twist. As they stood before a looking glass, Leliana smiled almost sadly at the reflection, Isabeau in contrast agape with Leliana's efforts.

"Keep it. We need something for the Orlesian parties, no? Now go, and revel in his awe... It would be a shame not to," the spymaster said as she fondly adjusted the belt before her hands softly guided Isabeau to the hallway. Isabeau turned to quickly squeeze Leliana's hands in thanks before she made her way to Cullen's quarters. She came to a stop at the heavy wooden door of the knight's solar, her hand hesitating as she went to knock.

_Right, revel in his awe... and Maker, allow me this one comfort. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: Just ah... would like to point out the change in rating. Please consider it and proceed accordingly. **

/+++/

Boot steps echoing through the hallway, Cullen relied on old training to ensure he didn't simply sprint for his apartments. On the ride back to the keep he had chosen to remain silent, running his strategy in his head for their arrival; Cullen was not some deviant, but he was a man. Isabeau's words at the tavern had served to sate little more than his long-held ruminations, Cullen experienced enough that he knew he'd dallied in doubts for long enough.

He strode through the doors of his solar and made for the dais of water in his bed chamber, splashing the cool liquid across his face. Once done drying off, he unclasped his cape and tossed it haphazardly upon an arm chair before pulling his tunic over his head. He stripped to his smalls and pulled on his armor's under tunic and breeches, pushing his arms through his vest cloak. As he cinched both the vest's golden cord and his belt, he poured a goblet of wine, sending a silent prayer to the Maker before drinking deeply.

_Breath... do something about your breath._

The servants of the keep had blessedly placed platters of fresh fruit in his chambers, Cullen reaching for a tangerine from the dining table. He cut out a wedge and hurriedly sucked on it, tossing the shrivelled remnants into his roaring hearth just as a knock came from his door.

Cullen was turning to answer as it opened from the other side, Isabeau tentatively poking her head in. As she stepped through the threshold and smiled shyly at him, Cullen felt a swell of yearning as he took her in; her hair was elegantly clipped up, strands of her ashen tresses cascading down to tease her slender neck, the dress elegantly simple. He walked towards her and clasped her hand in his as he kissed her knuckles, his eyes wickedly drawn to the swell of her breasts when he examined the embroidery along the garments neckline. Cullen pulled back and unabashedly drank her in, appreciating the belt accenting her wide hips.

"Your dress is... quite comely, my lady."

Isabeau fiddled with the numerous medallions dangling at her thigh as she laughed softly, "It's actually Leliana's; turns out I don't ah, _own_ any dresses..."

"A pity."

She perked her eyebrows, "Is it?"

"A lady of your quality should have more opportunity to wear gowns," He extended a hand to gesture Isabeau towards the wing back chairs, the other pressing to the small of her back as he followed. She swept her hands under her bottom before sitting, Cullen filling two goblets of wine for them to drink.

"I fear the 'quality' of lady I am doesn't have much use for them," she said as she took her goblet with thanks, "War has been my dance for so long, grand balls tend to feel a bit... dull in comparison."

Cullen could not help but nod in agreement before leaning forward in his seat, "Surely in Hercinia you attended a gala or two?"

Isabeau smiled as she held up a single finger, "One. I was maybe in my ninth or tenth year and I remember screaming at my mum because I 'didn't want a prince, I wanted a sword!'- I met the Vael boys for the first time that night. Made Sebastian cry, too." She smiled as she brought her goblet to her lips, leaning back in the chair as her gaze grew fondly distant, "Ooh, my mum and I could have at it, though. She was Marcher noble _to the bone_. Dad though? His blood ran muddy there was so much Fereldish in there. Born and raised a Marcher... just don't look too close at the family tree."

They shared a quiet chuckle between them.

"I can't imagine why your mother would be... disgruntled," Cullen jabbed, frankly unsurprised; She was exactly the kind of little girl he had expected, not needing to guess which parent she took after.

"Aw bless her, she tried. Dad had no quarrel with my _interests_ and he eventually downright encouraged them. To mum's credit; I know she was just as pleased when I was accepted to Starkhaven Academy."

He inquisitively raised an eyebrow, "You trained at Starkhaven?"

Isabeau nodded enthusiastically as she swallowed her sip of wine, "Mmm, I did, since I was eleven. I served as a squire until the age of sixteen before fully entering the Honour Guard by eighteen." She narrowed her eyes in reflection, "I had been on assignment during the coup d'état that befell the Vael family. The Trevelyan's of Hercinia are long allies to the Vael's of Starkhaven and I was... _close_ with one of the family's elder sons."

Cullen thought of Sebastian back in Kirkwall, realizing Isabeau shared in the Prince's loss, "I am sorry."

She smiled sadly and waved his apology away, "It is done and... that was long ago now. I did eventually manage to track down Prince Sebastian, much later, and served in his growing forces. We had been preparing to recapture Starkhaven."

_So the rumours were true._

He had heard of the Prince's intentions to yield the crown, but after the death of Grand Cleric Elthina, Sebastian had disappeared from Kirkwall. Aveline had filled in the gaps later for Cullen; not displeased to hear of Sebastian's oath to hunt for the Warden Mage. The state of the city aside, Cullen had simply lacked the manpower to offer assistance; he had been sorely tempted to hunt the murderer himself.

"I met Prince Vael on several occasions while he was in Kirkwall. I understand he is still embattled against his cousin." Cullen rose from his seat and picked up the platter of fruit, holding it before Isabeau as she plucked a few strawberries into her hand, "Forgive my ill-timed talk of business, my lady, but I feel it will be a battle which may require our intervention."

Isabeau nodded in solemn agreement, "I would not be... utterly opposed. Though I worry his _volatility_ could prove risky in relation to the mages. When he learned of the consortium at the Temple of Andraste, it was Sebastian who arranged my assignment with Leliana, and by proxy, Justinia. It was not for diplomatic purposes."

Cullen nodded in agreement of the Prince's intentions though he did not miss the bitter note to her words, "Leliana has mentioned before... She had not thought you'd survived the blast."

"With good reason. I am yet to determine exactly what the true purpose my attendance served, but to my understanding, I _was_ there as a precaution." Isabeau gave a tired sigh before she regarded Cullen evenly, "And what of you, Ser Cullen? Did you join the Templar Order young?"

He gulped down the last of his wine, "Yes, my career began in Denerim, where I mainly studied and trained before I was assigned to the tower of magi. As a young recruit, I was usually relegated to watch duty but occasionally..." He paused as a great explosion of red appeared behind his vision, "O-occasionally, a particularly..._ troublesome_ mage would escape and I would join a company of men for his retrieval." _I pray the Maker has seen you cast to the Void, Warden._

Isabeau rose and fetched the decanter of wine, refilling hers and Cullen's goblets before sitting, "A runner? He must have been a good swimmer, too, to break out of Kinloch." He chuckled bitterly at the remark, watching as she worried at her lip in contemplation, her hands anxiously fidgeting with the goblet in her grasp.

"My lady, are you alright?"

She shook her head in slow assurance, "Yes, thank you. It's just..." She trailed off, her eyes downcast as she continued, "The dark haired mage, from the Fade... did you hunt her, too?"

A great weight settled in the pit of Cullen's stomach, the first mention of his long-kept secret now bare. Though it had remained unspoken between them for some time, he could not deny how much her knowledge of it dogged him. Isabeau's wade into the uncharted waters left Cullen feeling the first sting of their comfortable rapport; his body tensing as his fight or flight kicked in. _She and one of the __**Vael **__son's... yet _I'm_ the one expected to explain a past flame?_

He angrily clenched his fists at both his angst and impudence, standing to sullenly approach the hearth as images of Amell's writhing form seemed to dance in the flames. "Never. She..." Cullen gave a great sigh, "I was naive and fostering a young man's...misguided infatuation. Amell was a decent woman and talented mage; I had attended her Harrowing and stood watch during enough of her activities for that to be clear. She could be mischievous, but I never thought her dangerous... and that was part of the problem."

"I'm sure it wasn't a... comfortable task," Isabeau offered gently, "Did you ever...?"

Cullen turned and briskly shook his head, "No. I may have been young, but my ardor was improper and I knew it." He opted to sit upon the plush rug before the fire, hearing a shuffling as Isabeau grabbed the fruit and joined him at his side. "Amell however, was not as shy in her intentions. She propositioned me shortly after her Harrowing. Rather than give in to temptation... I simply removed myself."

Isabeau looked at him in cautious suspicion, "Poor lass, you just ignored her?"

He frowned at her defensively, "She was one of my charges, it was not appropriate."

"So... you literally ran away?"

"It was not... my most gallant of moments, I confess," he cynically laughed at his own shame, "I agonized over our allotted stations like a mabari with a bone, but my duty was clear. I was spared any further self-torment when she was recruited by a Grey Warden, the Circle falling soon afterwards..."

Isabeau raised a hand haltingly.

"Wait. You... you _fancied_ the Hero of Ferelden?" She gasped, her face reddening with a teasing smile, "I'm sorry, forgive my candor, I knew she had hailed from Kinloch but never did I suspect your shared... _connection_."

Cullen blanked out as all-encompassing images of the demon's torture invasively sprang to mind. Something ugly twisted inside him at the return of his vision and he scowled before snapping, "_Because there was no connection_ - only the _fancy_ of a foolish boy. A _fancy_ I paid for dearly as you have regrettably come to see!"

It looked as if Cullen had reached out and struck her, Isabeau's face contorted in distress as she cast her gaze down from his. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, immediately shamed by the sudden and unnecessarily harsh outburst. The residual trauma his tormentors had gifted him finally reared its ugly head, Cullen berating himself for not being in control.

The weight that hung in the silence of the room was blatant.

"...If we are being frank," Isabeau gingerly ventured, "I would confess to wishing I _never_ had. You cannot know the quiet agony I have endured over what I saw, Cullen," Her voice had the slightest quiver as she raised a pair of honest and repentant eyes to meet his again. "If I gave the impression of nonchalance in my levity, I am most sorry. I should not have pried."

_Maker's ass, apologize for your dramatics._

He ignored the scolding voice and instead chose honesty as he took Isabeau's hand in his, "This is... not a topic that will ever be easy for me, Isabeau. The choice of omitting that part of my torment has been taken from me; I am _learning_ how to manage your knowledge of it."

Her hand reached to gently cup his jaw as she sighed, "Then let us even the field. You asked me once of the Breach? The truth is... _I remember _people burning and their screams as flames consumed them. I remember my comrades disintegrating before my very eyes, looking down to see my own flesh alight." She took a shaky breath as her hand fell from Cullen's face to grasp at the chest of his tunic, "But most of all, I remember a _song_... an achingly familiar melody that has nettled my mind ever since."

_Blessed Andraste..._

Both the events in Kirkwall and the Inquisition's own investigations allowed Cullen knowledge of the unnerving phenomena. Varric's account of Bartrand's _infirmity_ had helped substantiate the Inquisition's on-going analysis of red lyrium, its danger and effects well established. The implications behind Isabeau's own current affliction suddenly soured the wine in his stomach, Cullen contrite as he cupped his mouth behind his hand, willing his nausea away.

"It comes back the strongest when I close rifts... or find myself too near veins or phials of raw lyrium," Isabeau further confessed, her grip on his tunic lessening as she pulled back and drank from her goblet.

Cullen gulped in a breath.

"Have you told Solas?"

"No."

"Will you?"

"...No." She answered initially before she paused at his balking, shaking her head in repentant clarification, "Cullen, I am aware I need to, I'm still... working on growing the pair I need in order to do it."

He sighed at the deflection and chewed on the inside of his cheek as he contemplated her admission, "Did it follow you... when you retrieved me from the Fade?"

Her lips went round as she perked in sudden realization, "Not... that I recall, oddly, no."

"You need to speak of this, Isabeau, especially to Solas. If you are _tainted_ in some way, it could be early enough that we can prevent its spreading," he reached for her desperately then, his hands clasping her arms tightly as memories of Meredith surged forth. "Promise me."

Isabeau recoiled slightly in his grasp, "I'm not going insane nor am I _tainted_, Cullen. It is occasionally distracting but at worst it is uncomfortable. I can handle it."

"That's not good enough."

"It's going to have to be. I have no choice in the matter, Cullen. Until we are at the essence of the issue, I can't afford to agonize over conjecture or lose time being coddled."

"Maker, but you can be a stubborn woman," Cullen's nostrils flared slightly as he exhaled in exasperation. Isabeau shrugged sadly before she reached for his hand and tightly squeezed it in her own.

"I meant what I told you before, Cullen... I need you to help keep the lines clear. I wouldn't ask if I didn't feel you capable." Her lips pressed softly against his scarred, calloused knuckles, "...Now we bear each other's burdens. Honor me with the courtesy of patience and I will be glad to give it in turn."

The tight coil of his emotions suddenly relaxed as he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. Cradling her against his chest, he tilted his head down to plant a soft kiss to the top of her head. _Maker, just this one thing... allow me just this modicum of succor. _They gently rocked back and forth before the hearth in a heavy silence, Isabeau breaking it as she twisted in his arms, her face inches from his. She fiddled with the tassels of his vests' cord before lifting her eyes again.

"Is... this wise of us?"

"As your _advisor_? Absolutely not."

Isabeau dejectedly began to pull away at his reply; Cullen smiling then as he gently cupped her face in his hands, his lips pressing firmly against hers before he broke off, "As your _consort_? I'd say there's room for... interpretation."

The flesh across Isabeau's bosom rivaled her dress in that instant, Cullen wickedly revelling at her fluster as he continued the kiss. She returned it in kind, his arm guiding her onto her back, his elbows coming to rest at either side of her head as he loomed over her. She moaned through the kiss as her leg came to hook around his thigh, Cullen's tongue now darting between her lips to entangle with hers. They broke off to catch their breaths, her nose gently rubbing against the tip of his own as her fingers raked deliciously through the hair at the back of his head.

Cullen placed a hand behind her head in turn, pulling her closer until their foreheads pressed together, "I have harbored... affections for you for longer than is easy to admit, Isabeau." He leaned down and kissed her deeply again, groaning as her hips rose to grind against his. He hardened painfully at the action, his gasps of breath between their harried kissing growing heavier.

"Cullen," Isabeau breathed his name throatily as he began to kiss down her neck and along her collarbone. He abruptly sat back and scooped Isabeau up in his arms, carrying her towards his bedchamber with her legs wrapped tightly around his hips. They crashed down atop his mattress in a flurry of movement, Isabeau's hands hurriedly undressing him, yanking off his vest and tunic while Cullen planted kisses at the swells of her breasts between her efforts. She licked her lips hungrily as she ran her fingers down the muscles of his chest and abdomen, her hands pausing at the laces of his breeches. As she stopped, Cullen ceased his own ministrations and leaned back in concern.

"My lady?"

Isabeau pulled away with almost a cringe and buried her face in her hands then, shaking her head as she uttered her apologies. She laid flat on the bed, her fingers raking through her hair as she caught her breath and smiled at him ruefully, "I am sorry, Cullen. I want this, just... not quite yet. May... we stop for now?"

"Of course," he agreed with no qualm, nodding as he rose from the bed and plucked his tunic from the floor, pulling it over his head again. "I... hope I did not dare for too much?"

"Not at all, Ser Knight," she purred as she rose to her knees, her arms encircling his waist as she squeezed him against her. Cullen reached down and massaged her shoulders as he regarded her fondly, frowning at the knots and tension he felt beneath his fingers. Isabeau let out a soft mewl of satisfaction as Cullen worked out a particularly bad knot, the Inquisitor forcibly yanking him back to the bed with her as she lay back down. The couple shimmied until they lay correctly again in the great bed, Isabeau planting soft kisses at the corner of his lips before propping her head in her hand.

"I have been hasty in the past, Cullen... and it burned me. I would not dishonor your affections with the same mistake."

Cullen could not help but capitalize on the turned tables, "Vael?"

Her gaze darkened.

"Yes, and it literally could not have ended worse." She tickled at the hair behind his ear affectionately as she pressed herself closer across his chest, "It was not an easy pain to bear, on both counts."

"'Both counts'?"

Isabeau shut her eyes as she reached to rub at them tiredly, "My tryst with Corbinian ended with his death. When I found Sebastian... he and I eventually sought _comfort _together once reunited. It was... messy."

A scoff of incredulity snuck out from between Cullen's lips.

_Pious Prince Sebastian?_

"Forgive me; the rumour of his celibacy was active amongst Kirkwall's weaving circles and travelled quickly. He _was_ a Brother of the Chantry."

"Yes well, Sebastian is also rash, honorable to a _fault_ and puts my occasional obstinacy to shame," Isabeau rolled to her side, facing away from Cullen. "I knew he still carried a torch for the Champion's sister, but I willingly submitted to our impulsions. His _honour _soon saw me sent to the Frostbacks."

_He and I have very different definitions of the word._

Cullen's jaw clenched as he swallowed his disdain, the mention of Bethany Hawke barely registering.

Rolling over to spoon her body in his from behind, Cullen kissed at the junction of her neck, his lips trailing up and back down to her shoulder. For quite some time he laid there, running his fingertips over the contours of her upper body. As her delighted but sleep-laden moans lessened in his ears, he pulled her protectively against him.

"By my honour, you'll see me at your side as long as you'll have me there."

When she did not reply any further, Cullen allowed his eyes to close, sleep swiftly taking its hold of him. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: Just ah... would like to point out the change in rating. Please consider it and proceed accordingly. **

/+++/

"Get them down to the cellars!"

Isabeau barked commands as she helped maintain order and guided the wave of panicked civilians through the massive gates of Skyhold. In the near distance, as scores of wounded and terrified people flooded into the stronghold, wicked flashes of green lightning cracked and thundered. A breach had opened at the keep's very doorstep, Cullen and Isabeau commanding their forces to fortify the front facing walls, Isabeau insisting on being vanguard. She intended on making good use of the bridge's choke point against the demons.

"That's the last of them, Inquisitor."

"Seal the gates and damn well hold it should I fall. My team and I will use the sally-port to get in position; I want a squad of men placed to defend it and platoons lined and at the ready for my signal. _Do not _have me lose my only retreat, lieutenant."

"As you command, Eminence!"

She nodded gravely at him before she sprinted into the yard, joining Cassandra by a stack of crates, the comrades assisting each other with their armor. Cullen appeared soon after, clad in full-plate, his ferocious helm tucked under his arm as he pulled Isabeau to the side.

"You come back from that bridge, do you understand?"

Isabeau met his gaze fiercely, the adrenaline palpable as she and Cullen clasped each other's forearms tightly. He swallowed thickly before pulling his helm over his head and striding to the safer confines of the fortress, he, Josephine and other advisors commanding from within. Isabeau took a steadying breath and made for where Bull, Sera and Varric stood waiting. As she approached them, she looked up and around to verify positions, noting Dorian, Vivienne and Solas strategically dotted in higher but well fortified places.

_Rain hell from above with a sufficient vantage point to lifeguard. Okay... get moving._

Cassandra had departed with Leliana to assist the rearguard and act as a last stand defense for the civilians if necessary. As her group made their way through the sally-port, Isabeau saw Ser Keran amongst the entrance's guards, squeezing his hand in support before the heavy door closed behind her.

Varric and Sera took their positions in the corners of the gate's archway, each offered cover behind huge lit braziers. Bull nodded grimly at Isabeau.

"You ready?"

"Always."

The two drew their weapons and paced down the length of the bridge, the horde of the Fade spawn now visible over the crest of the path and rapidly approaching. Isabeau's legs pumped faster as she and Bull careened towards the horde, crashing into the wave that was a group of behemoths, sending the enemies scattering. Bull's hammer swung and devastated the crystalline enemies before him, Isabeau bashing and slicing at any exposed flesh that remained on her own foes. Around them enemies fell, arrows dropping an assortment of terror and sloth demons that encroached too closely as she and Bull unleashed mayhem. They were still within the Keep's range, some enemies falling from arrows just as Isabeau made to attack them; her and Bull advancing steadily as they mangled everything in their way forward.

"Boss!" Bull suddenly barked as he yanked her to him and she pressed her shield flat to his back, his strength's momentum fluidly rolling her across his shoulders, Isabeau kicking out as she landed and taking an advancing corpse's jaw off with her steel toed boots. The Quinari always watched her flank as his hammer sent its targets flying; Isabeau finding herself marvelling at how well they _danced_ together.

Another wave of the monsters came at them, magical attacks now being unleashed by the Arcane Horror's. Isabeau leapt and rolled as she dodged a bolt of lightning, agile in the light-plate she wore for increased mobility. She brought up her shield just as a Horror made to slash at her, bashing at its face as she brought up her sword hand's gauntlet, impaling its skull as a blade shot out from her wrist. Isabeau retracted the conveniently located blade, _very _pleased with Varric's latest improvements.

As she took in the carnage around her, she noticed Sera and Varric had moved up, advancing forward as they pushed more enemies back. She turned and thrust her sword in the air to signal more troops to the bridge, archers on the parapets splitting their targets with suppressive and covering fire respectively. As the battle's rhythm beat on, Isabeau found herself amongst fewer demons and more of her own troops as they steadily trickled from the Keep in advancement. Like a well-oiled sword, her platoons of shields, spears and bows moved in a widening V formation, cutting through the assailants as they made their way to the tear in the Veil. Layers of shields finally encircled Isabeau's position as she extended her hand and screamed in triumph as she closed the breach.

Immediately Isabeau collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, her mark always leaving her drained for a time after its use. With a surprising gentleness, Bull reached down and steadied her on her feet as the men around them cheered, Isabeau managing to beam with pride at how well they had fought. She made a promise to herself then and there regarding her next steps upon arriving back at the Keep.

Once steadier on her feet, Bull released Isabeau and they helped with gathering wounded or dead, carts for their retrieval beginning to roll down the bridge. As Isabeau took in the casualties around her, though less than she feared, she still shivered at the sheer chance of her being at Skyhold when it happened. They were resupplying before making the long trip to hear Gaspard de Chalons' terms, the Orlesian Civil War having worsened so dramatically, she had been kept near its Capital for several weeks. She and Cullen had finally found an opportunity to connect when the bird arrived from their scouts, Leliana immediately interrupting their liaison with the warning.

After Solas met up with her on the battlefield and healed her wounds, Isabeau determinedly trudged back up to the keep, her muscles still twitching and burning from their exertion. As she entered the gates and came into the crowded courtyard, a roar of cheers exploded around her, she in turn thanking and congratulating her people as she made her way into the interior chambers. When she pushed open the doors to her war room, her eyes immediately found Cullen's, his shining with pride as she approached the collection of advisors and diplomats.

"It is done. Ser Cullen, would you join me in my solar? I would like to debrief you on your forces current standing."

He nodded in assent and followed her out, any curiosities her other diplomats or advisor's felt about a private debriefing going unmentioned. Once in the solitude of her solar, Isabeau reached behind her and slid the bolt on the lock home. Cullen turned at the sound, grunting slightly when Isabeau leapt into his arms, her legs tightly wrapping around his hips as she hungrily kissed him. He returned the kiss in kind, his hands yanking at and unlatching her various pieces of armor. As the last of the metal and leather hit the floor, Isabeau slid down him and back to her feet, lifting her arms for Cullen as he pulled her bodice and chemise over her head.

Isabeau hurriedly unbuckled Cullen's plate, not so much as blinking when the heavy pieces clattered loudly to the floor stone. Her hands shook as she worked at his chest piece, his lips agonizingly distracting as he nibbled and kissed at her exposed neck and shoulders. When he finally mirrored her in nothing but breeches and smalls, Isabeau shoved him onto a chaise, straddling his groin to grind against him.

"I-Isabeau..." he grunted as his hands came to grasp her hips wantonly, their mouths entwining heatedly before she leaned back and started to tug at the laces of his breeches. A large, rough hand slid up her abdomen to grasp at her breast band, Cullen loosening the smalls until it fell from her ribs. When the pair finished stripping down and Isabeau climbed back into his lap, their kisses slowed a fraction as she rubbed herself slowly against him. Cullen groaned loudly when she guided him to her, her wetness enveloping him. The chaise creaked with their combined weight as the couple started to rock, limbs entangled as they sated their lust.

Cullen's lips found the dip where Isabeau's neck connected to her shoulder, the stunning woman gasping in delight when he gently nipped. Her hands raked through his hair and down his broad back as he caught a bouncing teat in his mouth. They both cried out as his hips began to rock more deeply, desire-filled whispers of sweet nothings peppering their sounds of ecstasy. Cullen must have felt his end nearing, his panting heavier against Isabeau's chest as she bounced in his lap, his hips starting to pound faster into her. When she cried out and clenched repeatedly around him, his restraint abruptly collapsed, awash with rapture as Isabeau clung to him.

With a great exhale of breath, Cullen stretched out as far as he could on the chaise, still blessedly within Isabeau as they cooled from the lusty adrenaline rush. They stared at each other through hooded eyes, Isabeau slowly kissing him before pulling away to stand, both wincing at the feel of their sensitive disconnection. 

"Maker..." Cullen breathed aloud as Isabeau made her way to the wash basin to freshen up from her sweat-inducing day. When done, she pulled on Cullen's discarded tunic, padding back over to her still recovering Marshall. She took his hand, leading them into her bedchambers to fall upon her soft mattress. Isabeau tilted her head back and gazed at the night sky through the tall windows.

"You... have honored me with your dedication, Cullen," she began softly as she turned her head to the side, her hand coming to rub her thumb at the stubble of his jaw. "The disciplined and skilled forces you have shaped and given me were... something to behold this close to _home_."

A naughty but contented smile twitched at his lips before he leaned forward to kiss her again, "Had I known it would lead to such... _rigorous_ debriefings, I would have doubled my efforts."

"I think I got a little wet on the field."

Cullen chuckled at her vulgarity and pulled her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. "Noted."

"Do you think we should head back?" Isabeau asked as she sat up from the bed. Cullen smirked at his tunic draped about her smaller frame before rising to retrieve his breeches.

"I think so, yes," he said as he pushed each leg through and tightened the laces. "I... would like it if I could return later, should you also accept?"

Isabeau smiled as she nodded. When they finished dressing, she caught Cullen's arm as he made to leave. "This..." she began but was silenced as Cullen crushed his lips to hers again.

"No explanation is necessary, Inquisitor," he growled alluringly after he broke the kiss, perking his eyebrows suggestively upwards as he gave her bum a solid squeeze.

Isabeau smiled at his cockiness, chuckling as she watched him make his way towards the war room while she headed for the yard. The remainder of much of her evening and night was spent assisting the healers with the wounded and personally seeing to thank as many of her men as she could. It was approaching dawn when the pyres for the dead were complete and lit, an exhausted Isabeau near collapsed to the floor of her bed chamber once she arrived.

"You've had _more_ dramatic entrances," Cullen quipped as he looked up from the book he read in her bed.

"Listen, handsome..." Isabeau drawled as she began to strip down to nothing but her chemise, "I'll not have you spoil our victory with your lip." She crawled into the bed and tucked herself under Cullen's raised and waiting arm, his biceps tightening around her shoulders as he held her close. The book flopped forward into his lap as he leaned to kiss her gently.

"Does the lady find _that_ kind of lip more agreeable?"

Isabeau blew out a breath.

"Makers breath, I have awoken the beast. Go figure, the stoic templar facade melts away to reveal a lecherous lion..."

Cullen looked ill amused.

"Oh, I only jest, luv," She moaned as she rolled to her opposite side and sank deeper into the mattress, her exhaustion rapidly catching up to her as she listened to Cullen's steady breathing in her ear. She must have dozed off for when she awoke next; Cullen was inside of her again, this time his pace slow and rolling. Light was now streaming from the windows and across the naked pair laying on their sides, Cullen's hips sensually grinding into her backside. One hand cupped a pert cheek in hand, his fingers delectably spreading her as Isabeau moaned her approval. She twisted her neck to catch his lips in hers.

"Good morrow," he breathed into her lips as they brushed in erotic proximity. Isabeau could only smile in bliss as she submitted herself to Cullen, carnally crying out with each thrust into her. She absently wondered at Cullen's exponential rise in boldness just as his cock hit a particularly sweet angle, her thoughts broken and lost as she came. Her Knight's release followed shortly after.

Rolling onto her back, Isabeau gave a great stretch as she smiled sleepily at Cullen's flushed features. He grasped her hand in his and kissed it.

"I hope that was accepta- "

Isabeau tested her own boldness and reached down suddenly to cup him in her hand, "'No explanation necessary', _Ser_."

Somehow Cullen flushed the reddest she'd ever seen him be, Isabeau releasing him, secretly glad to see that under the bravado, was still the reserved templar she'd grown so fond of. Knowing she was privy to such a private side of Cullen flushed her with affection; she kissed him hungrily in gratitude of their morning activities before dragging herself in a fit of light chuckles from the comfortable bed.

"Of _course_ it was acceptable, Cullen," she soothed before flashing him a flippant grin, "Near death experiences, huh? Great for a frame of reference."

"You could say that," he conceded.

"I have a meeting with Solas," she explained as she tossed her soiled clothes into a basket, pausing to stretch out tender muscles. "I plan on discussing my, ah... affliction with him but I need a change of clothes first."

"Good luck."

"Yeah," She sighed as she lazily stripped and approached her wardrobe. As she stood hidden behind its open door and dressed, she heard Cullen call for her. She popped her head from the other side of the door, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"A victory feast is being prepared for tonight... I ah, took the liberty of arranging your attire."

"Is it made of plate?"

"Silk."

Isabeau teasingly shrugged, "A pity."

Cullen's snort echoed out into the solar behind her. She poured herself a cup of steaming Antivan coffee and returned to the bedchambers, washing her face quickly. Once dry, she left again, picking up her now comfortably warm coffee and meandering to Solas' cabinet. She knocked gently on the half open door, the elf's pleasant voice beckoning her in.

"How do you fare this morning, Inquisitor?"

"A bit stiff, but I've been worse," she answered, sitting down in the chair across him at the writing desk. She perked her eyebrows as she sipped at her coffee, her fingers tapping nervously on the chairs arm while Solas smiled at her. She cleared her throat, placing her cup down.

"So... here's the thing: We have discussed much and more of my memories and experiences in the Fade. Because of you, I have a gained both knowledge and strength from something that likely would have ruined me."

Solas' smile turned bemused, "Lady Trevelyan?"

"I trust you Solas... but I have not been completely truthful with you," Isabeau began, watching as the Elvhen's face grew more concerned, "The... singing? What we've been able to corroborate between the known cases of Red exposure? I've _always_ heard it... It was what led me out of the Breach... and I don't know what that means."

Swiftly, Solas rose from his desk and strode for his chamber's door, closing it firmly. He sat back down then before her, tenting his fingertips as he pondered Isabeau's admission.

"Led you out of the Fade, you said? Could be significant; from what we have determined, the appearance of this 'singing' largely acts to its victim's detriment."

"You think it... helped me?"

"I didn't say that, but it _is_ curious. Though, I should think if it were red lyrium exposure your hand would look quite different. I'm not convinced it's the cause."

Isabeau released a shallow breath of relief.

"That being said, the average time frame I've established so far leaves that prognosis a little... premature," Solas cautioned as he leaned back in his seat, watching Isabeau frown into her coffee. "I myself have not noticed any radical or alarming changes to your psyche," He paused and smiled knowingly at her, "Well, relatively speaking..."

She rubbed at her heated face furiously, huffing in agitation, "Solas. On. Task. Please."

He chuckled throatily at her temper and opened his arms wide, "Isabeau, I'm not one to promise a flying Halla; until we determine who or what is changing or _tainting_ our world's Lyrium, you'll achieve nothing but angst pursuing this right now. For now, a calmer mind is the advice I can give."

_Right, so exactly what I've been trying to do._

"Solas, this legitimately frightens me."

His large but slender hand cupped her own, "You have a _key_ of the Fade fused to your very hand, you daft girl. Don't let it _frighten_ you; let it be the part of you that it _already_ is... and perhaps the tune will change?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: Warning of cheesy incorporation of a favourite quote of mine that I feel sums up this whole shebang. **

A great raucous echoed through Skyhold's vast hallways, revelry from the courtyard filtering in through the archways and windows, coming to meet with the roar of the fortresses' great dining hall. The Inquisition's victory over the attack of their home base had bolstered morale, the various people of station and service to the order celebrating the night away.

Cullen felt a small smile tug at his lips as the sounds permeated his ears, his one hand tugging at his glove in adjustment as he walked. He was making his way to the feast in the dining hall, his mind still reeling from the combined events of the previous day. While he could not deny feeling incredibly sated, the sudden escalation in intimacy with Isabeau's _elations _had a mixed effect on Cullen. It was past time he had accepted his feelings for the Inquisitor, but a part of him still urged to tread carefully, the possible complications of their desires regrettably gnawing at his overactive mind. A chiding voice that had been a part of Cullen longer than Isabeau stubbornly maintained its hold; he intended to do his best tonight to stifle it.

If he was being truthful, he was looking forward to seeing the lady in the dress he had surreptitiously arranged for her in her absence. At learning Isabeau was sorely lacking in the elegant garments, Cullen had enlisted Josephine's assistance and resources, the Antivan more than up to the task.

"_A dress?"_

"_Yes."_

_Josephine chuckled softly as she set the ledger in her hand down upon her desk, "I... did not take you for the type, Ser Cullen."_

_His ears burned at the remark and Cullen anxiously cleared his throat, "Josephine..."_

_She waved his exasperation away, "Yes, yes. This is for Lady Trevelyan, no? I have seen the writing on the wall, you know? Amongst others... but I suppose I can keep your secret."_

_Cullen breathed a sigh in relief._

"_For a price."_

"_I... have sufficient gold, if that's what you require."_

_Josephine shook her head to and fro, quirking a finely groomed eyebrow._

"_I want troops. Agree to supply me one more platoon for the Hinterland routes, and I will find you a flying pig, if you so desire it."_

"_Deal," Cullen said, reaching to shake Montilyet's extended hand; Cullen not needing to let on he had already planned to allot extra men to commercial requirements. She nodded in assent and made for one of the great book cases in her solar. As her fingers glided along the backs of various tomes, she plucked a particularly wide one and returned to set it upon her desk._

"_Let's do some shopping, _Ser_..." she trailed off as she looked up at him, her hand pulling the book open to reveal pages covered in illustrations of various gown designs. "Many of the most popular Orlesian designers are in here. If it is contained within this copy, I should have relatively little difficulty in arranging its delivery."_

"_Your procurement capabilities never cease to astound, Lady Montilyet," Cullen said appreciatively as he began to flick through the numerous pages. He swallowed deeply as he came across a particularly _revealing_ dress, feeling his face warm as he imagined it on Isabeau, before promptly turning the page._

"_I... will require measurements, Cullen."_

_He licked his finger and thumbed another page, "That won't be a problem, kindly speak to Leliana and she can provide."_

_Josephine simpered, "Was I the last to be let in on this grand scheme of yours?"_

_A shy chuckle escaped Cullen's lips, "I meant no offense, Josephine. Truthfully, half of me is about ready to bolt for your door and abandon this frivolity. But... Lady Isabeau, I think, is overdue for a show of _appreciation_ for her tireless efforts."_

"_That and she's the only Hercinian noblewoman that I know of, whose wardrobe consists strictly of leather and various daggers." _

"_It... suits her occupation?"_

_A throaty laugh erupted from Josephine, "Well, your endeavour is well-timed. With the Inquisition's increasing presence in Orlais, our Inquisitor will be called to a ball sooner rather than later. Having the appropriate attire won't hurt." _

_Cullen was just about to vocally share in Isabeau's disdain for the affairs when suddenly, an idea came to him and he pulled away from the book. "Provided it exists in this catalogue, you can get it?"_

"_That is correct."_

"_Only Orlesian?"_

_Josephine tilted her head in contemplation as she slid the book towards her, flipping to the very back as she skimmed the index contained within._

"_Unfortunately, if you're intent on a... _Hercinian_ style, they have precious few designers and I do not think they're available to me."_

_Cullen smiled to himself as he shook his head. _

"_What about... Fereldish?"_

The same smile still graced his features as reflected on the past event, turning down a corridor before pausing to check himself in a looking glass upon the wall. He had chosen his finest dress armor for the evening's jubilations; his pauldrons and cape were still lined with fur, but instead of bear it was of soft ermine. He still wore his usual burgundy sweater vest but a silken blue tunic beneath replaced the usual red linen. A less imposing, smaller gorget sat underneath the vest upon his collar; the metal engraved with a pair of rampant lions. Cullen reached and attempted to smooth his hair, frowning at his preening before he approached the open doors of the dining hall.

At his entrance, a roar of cheering exploded around him, Cullen dipping his head in thanks; likewise feeling a sense of pride for the various men and women seated amongst the rows of tables. He strode down the middle, noting a great space had been left open where people now danced, a troupe of bards filling the expansive hall with singing and music. Sitting at the main table at the head of the hall was Isabeau and her various advisors, companions and diplomats. He noted Bann Teagan's presence as the older man leaned to talk into Isabeau's ear beside him, the Inquisitor smiling at him before turning to find Cullen.

His breath caught as she stood. The _cotehardie_ from their first night of rebellion together had been simple and beautiful in its own right, but what she wore now had Cullen poignantly recalling his own Fereldish ancestry. Her ashen hair was down for once, its wavy tresses tamed and held from her face by a delicate silver diadem carved with vines and leaves. Fine, sable fur lined the gown's long sleeves, its collar sinking down low upon Isabeau's chest, exposing the swell of her breasts. Its colour was a rich, Brecilian green; the bodice criss-crossed with dark brown leather laces framed with more fur. Carved medallions of silver hung about her hips and led the eye down to the fur-trimmed trail that followed behind her steps. A delicate chain of silver hung around her neck, a multifaceted ruby glinting in the light of the hall where it sat atop her breasts.

When she paused before him, he went to one knee and kissed her hand, rising to her onslaught of chuckles over his chivalry. He smiled warmly at her as they hooked their arms together and made their way for the table, Cullen tilting his head down to her ear as they sat before the various dishes of food before them.

"You are beautiful."

Isabeau took a sip from her goblet, "My Knight is kind to say so... and apparently has great taste when it comes to gowns."

Cullen felt his chest tighten in pride, a heat coming to his cheeks. "I am glad."

They smiled contentedly at each other before digging in to the food before them, Cullen finding the honeyed ham particularly tasty. He was on a second helping of it when Isabeau had risen from her seat at his side, watching as she skipped to the dance floor, her skirts held up in her hands. She and Sera spun and leapt about, Isabeau's gown billowing out magnificently around her with each turn of her arm, only stopping to drink from a tankard or goblet. Cullen laughed with the rest as Sera took the opportunity to dash under the billowing skirts, Isabeau crying out in mock indignation. Soon Dorian, Bull and Varric joined the pair, all five placing arms about each other to sway back and forth as they sung the words in unison with the bard's song. Varric didn't seem to mind being lifted into the air by Bull, Isabeau teasingly pointing and laughing as the dwarf's feet dangled to the tune.

"She is a force, that one."

Turning his head, Cullen smiled his welcome as Leliana came to sit beside him, "Yes, she is..."

"It is good to see her relax, the weight of the world is upon that one's shoulders," Leliana said softly, her hand plucking pieces of baked apple pie to her mouth. Cullen hummed his agreement and turned to watch again just as Isabeau and Dorian leapt upon a table, their feet moving in a flurry of outlandish dance steps as the men and women around them clapped.

"You must be good to her, Cullen."

"I beg your pardon?"

When he turned to face Leliana he saw she was already striding from the table, making her way through the crowd and out one of the halls many side doors. Chewing at his lip, Cullen chose to disregard Leliana's customarily cryptic behaviour. Isabeau having vacated the table top, Dorian now joined by a rather handsome young soldier, she made her way back to where Cullen remained seated. She panted slightly, her chest red from her excitements, as she threw herself back into her chair.

"Maker, but it's a sin what that man can do with his feet."

Cullen chuckled, "You seemed to keep up."

"I looked bloody mad, thank the Maker nearly everyone in here is pissed out of their minds," She near inhaled the piece of roast auroch she had cut from the trencher in front of her, chewing quickly before washing it down with wine. "They've _earned_ it, though. I meant what I said, Cullen; I'm so used to having a small party at my back. Your efficiency today was much appreciated."

"If we had the numbers, I would see you face every battle the same way."

Isabeau enthusiastically knocked back her goblet, a dribble of wine spilling down her chin. Cullen reached and gently wiped it away, warmed by her exuberance, as she went heartily back to her food. She swallowed down a rather large portion of potatoes.

"In time. On a somewhat heavier note; I had my meeting with Solas."

Eyebrows perked questioningly, Cullen finished his sip of wine.

"And?"

"I'm afraid patience is the virtue he preached. I didn't exactly come away from it with answers, if that's what you were hoping," she replied almost miserably, her shoulders slumping.

Cullen frowned, "He doesn't know what it is?"

"Oh, he thinks he knows the source. I just don't fit in his comfortably established equations and it's burning his ass, I think," Isabeau said thoughtfully, tugging at the piece of beard in her hand with her teeth.

"Then... he doesn't think it's the same thing?"

"I _think_ he's just not very concerned. He's never truly saw my mark as a bad thing, has he? If it's not exposure to red lyrium, it _is_ Fade related, so I'm sure he'll figure it out. For now, I'm to revel in my super powers," She danced her hands at the words, stopping to smile stupidly at Cullen. "If he's not worried; I'm not worried... and you're _definitely_ not allowed to worry."

"Yes, my lady," he said with exaggerated obedience, smiling as she went to playfully smack his arm. The bards started to play an even livelier song then, the great floor before their table crowded with people.

"Good. Now, come have a dance with me."

When he hesitated, she put her hands on her hips, "Oh no, you don't get to drag me to _a tavern_ for a dance to sappy love songs and deny me now."

_Shit._

"I curse my pitiful lack of foresight," he quipped as he bolstered his resolve and stood, taking her arm in his. Cullen sent a silent prayer to the Maker as he threw himself into the dance, amazed he even recalled most of the steps; though he stumbled occasionally. Isabeau's feet were agile and quick however, and the hall was so crowded with other dancers, Cullen felt himself relax and laugh in their revelry.

There was a tap at his shoulder and he turned to find Solas, the elf gracefully bowing before taking Isabeau into his arms. Cullen stepped back and clapped with the others as the crowd surrounded the pair in a Circle. Solas moved with incredible ability, blurring from the tempo he dominated the dance with. Cullen assumed it was Elvhen as he took in the other stunned faces around him, amazed Isabeau was able to mimic and keep pace. As the fiddle seemed to lock on a building rhythm, Solas spun Isabeau over and over; Isabeau sent reeling towards Cullen as Solas released suddenly at the breaking of the chorus. Cullen caught her in his arms, her own hooking around his neck before they nearly toppled over with laughter and panting.

A hand went to Isabeau's stomach as she caught her breath, "Ohh, friends... I confess it may be my bed time." Her hand went to her forehead and rubbed it, Cullen noting her unfocused eyes, her cheeks stained red.

_Maker's breath, but she is drunk._

Josephine moved to help Isabeau when Cullen kindly waved her away, "I will handle it, Josephine."

"Oh he'll handle it alright," Isabeau slurred suddenly, Cullen reddening deeply as he noted Varric looked downright disappointed the words had not been his. As the others chuckled, Cullen cleared his throat and adjusted his support of Isabeau, the others giving way as he and the inebriated Inquisitor made their way out of the hall and to her quarters. Isabeau burst out laughing when they stumbled at one point, slurring apologies as Cullen patiently readjusted her.

Once in her bedchambers, he assisted in undressing her, Isabeau's silliness now muted as he tugged at the laces of her bodice. She pet at the ermine on his shoulders as he pulled the gown down from her shoulders and arms, the garment pooling at their feet. Cullen guided Isabeau to the mattress before turning to pick up the crumpled gown, laying it gently across an armchair's back. When he turned, he found Isabeau was already curled up atop the coverlets with her eyes closed.

With a gentle smile tugging at his lips, he reached and gently plucked the diadem from about her forehead, placing it on the stand nearby. His fingers returned to brush waves of her tresses from her face while his other hand carefully began to shimmy the sheets and coverlet from beneath her. As he managed to free them from her weight and place them over her, he made to leave, a moan from Isabeau giving him pause.

"Stay, Cullen. Please?"

"As you wish," he whispered, beginning to work at his own attire. Once the last of his clothes joined Isabeau's on the armchair, he crawled in with her, his arm coming to wrap around her as he spooned her. He buried his face into the softness of her hair, enjoying her scent as she laid into his embrace.

A soft sigh escaped Isabeau's lips, "Do... you ever feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"A moment of panic over this? Over us?"

Cullen chewed on her question, trying to slow his heart as it began to pound in his chest, "May I be frank with the lady?"

Isabeau groaned, "Stop calling me that... and yes, frank away."

"Occasionally... yes, I feel a sense of trepidation. I worry at our stations, I worry at our responsibilities and I worry what compromising those could mean for the Inquisition," He paused as he felt her stiffen at the words, gently repositioning himself and rolling her over to face him. At the sight of her pained features, Cullen came to realize it was likely Isabeau held just as many anxieties he did, if not more.

"Then why?" she whispered, entwining her fingers in his.

He searched her eyes as he carefully considered his next words, "Pride... first told me it was impossible. Experience then called it... risky. Worse of all, reason made it seem pointless," he pulled their connected hands to his mouth, brushing her knuckles with his lips before kissing them. "My heart though... whispered 'give it a try'."

Tears streamed down Isabeau's face as she buried herself into his chest, Cullen squeezing her tightly as they lay in the silence and her muffled sniffling. When she raised her head again, she tilted her neck to kiss him softly, a fond smile upon her lips.

"Just so."


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: !MAJOR! book spoilers ahead. If you haven't read Asunder or Masked Empire, proceed with extreme caution. Like I said, this is all head canon and I'm trying to remain vague but also want to play with what I know. **

**Also, a little nod at A Song of Ice and Fire (it and my easter egg are the property of G.R.R Martin) is sprinkled somewhere in here. **

/+++/

"Baldilocks is going to get a kick out of you."

Iseabeau couldn't help but perk her eyebrows in agreement with Varric. She and her cohort had arrived at Andoral's Reach to treat and arbitrate between the warring Mages and Templars, the Inquisition now meeting with the mage's remaining leaders. Though their arrival so far had awarded a delicate armistice, it was a precarious one, both sides twitching for the first signs of treachery. The potential consequences were not lost on Isabeau.

Rhys and Evangeline had initially been the chosen representatives to approach the Inquisitions encampment; it had taken Isabeau several tense days of negotiation before they were able to obtain entry to the Fortress. Cole's presence had been tantamount in their efforts, however; Rhys and he sharing a rather touching reunion before the beleaguered mage had relented. To Isabeau's astonishment, Cole had inadvertently revealed Evangeline's secret, the three of them eventually recounting the incidents at the White Spire to the Inquisitor. Immediately, she had sent a bird to Skyhold, requesting Cullen ensure Solas was brought with the reinforcements she had requested.

"Silence, Dwarf!" Evangeline impatiently hissed at Varric now, Rhys having brought the Inquisition's envoy to the main hall of Andoral's Reach several days after Isabeau's bird had left.

"Inquisitor, you have approached us with a known Chantry sympathizer, a Tervinter Mage and, according to reports, a known Apostate is on his way with more of your constituents," First Enchanter Irving held her gaze steadily. "Not a rabble fit to inspire unity, I'm afraid. They are with you in your cause, but they have never been with ours."

"There has to be _one_ cause now, First Enchanter. The world is being consumed by the Breach and it is growing day by day; whatever we are now must face the change _together_ or pay the piper."

"You were _there_ at our last attempts at negotiation, Inquisitor. And yet Our Grand Enchanter has not returned to us. Until we have confirmation of her death, I am afraid we are at an impasse."

Isabeau hid her sigh as she gave a shallow bow, "Very well, Enchanter Irving. I ask you maintain the armistice until my advisor arrives to negotiate with the Templar's. As per our agreement, Rhys and Evangeline will return with me and act as representatives in our further endeavors with the Order. Following that; we will bring you their terms, release your envoy and attempt to treat with you a final time. May the Maker guide you, First Enchanter, and I pray cooler heads may yet prevail." She turned and strode from the hall, grinding her teeth as she made her way to the main gate.

While she had mostly dreaded her first meeting with the Mage consortium, she truthfully had hoped for greater success. Perhaps she had set her expectations too high; hoping the others behind the resistance were well represented in Rhys' balanced temperament. The tense afternoon had proven otherwise. She had hoped Vivienne and Dorian's presence would serve to assuage the Mages. _Evidently they're _excluded_ from this little soiree..._

Climbing onto her horse, Isabeau did not relish the task ahead of her and Cullen.The Templar's thus far had only begrudgingly accepted the fledgling truce, their terms tight as a noose around Isabeau's neck. She had until the morrow for her forces to arrive from Skyhold, and while they would offer her a modicum of security, she _had_ to extend the fragile armistice. Empress Selene and de Chalons' war would not abate with the Mages and Templars still embroiled in their own hostilities; Isabeau had decided to tackle the latter, her previous intentions for entreating with Ghaspard put on hold.

They may be an _ex_-Templars, but Isabeau had to believe Cullen and Evangeline would do well representing their causes. Combined, their extensive knowledge and service to the Order previously may stand to count for something.

As she trotted through the perimeter of the Inquisition's encampment, she noted the increase in her forces' numbers, more of her banners dying the sky red. When she slid off her horse and dismissed her party, one of her sergeants approached her.

"Inquisitor, your Marshall and his forces have arrived. He waits for you in your tent."

Nodding, she made her way to the back of the camp, reaching to push one of the heavy flaps of her tent apart. Cullen and Solas were within, patiently standing at her desk. She offered them both a tense smile before striding to take her seat before them.

"Gentlemen, you made good time, I see."

"Yes, my lady. We made preparations with great haste immediately following your bird," Cullen seemed to fidget, his shoulders rocking back and forth as he shifted his pauldrons. "We are standing atop crumbling earth here, Inquisitor. We must be swift in these negotiations. The Inquisition cannot afford any substantial losses over this."

"I agree," Leliana appeared from behind a flap, her steps silent as she approached them. "Inquisitor, this is not a battle we can win and we balance perilously on the blade's edge the longer we remain." Her hands came to palm the surface of the table top as she leaned towards Isabeau, "I ask you let me _handle_ this situation."

The quill in Isabeau's hand twirled between her fingers as she considered Leliana's implications. Her eyes darted to Cullen, already the knight's face hardened with disapproval; Solas, on the other hand, appeared impassive.

"Extrapolate."

"Allow me and several of my agents to infiltrate the fortress and templar camps; I will cut off the head of these troubles at their source. The rest will come to heel at the loss of their leadership, scattered and unorganized. We absorb them and leave a garrison of our forces at Andoral's Reach to police and command as an additional Keep."

Cullen scoffed and waved at Leliana's strategy as if he could shoo it away, "You can't seriously think that prudent? You propose inciting anarchy and then using our precious resources to tighten the leash? This is far larger and more complicated than that."

"So we sit on our asses, Cullen? Play the sycophant and hope we all walk away holding hands?" Leliana cursed in Orlesian, "The Mages and Templars have had their opportunities; _opportunities_ we have _all_ felt the consequence of. They need to be crushed or commanded. We will not find a middle ground in this conflict."

"Even if I was rendered temporarily insane and_ wanted_ to stage a war on two simultaneous fronts, _sandwiched _in between both...? _We don't have the_ _men-_." Cullen seethed slowly, Leliana cutting in.

"Exactly. I offer the solution to your problem."

The two then dissolved into a fury of arguments, Cullen and Leliana's words each more biting than the last. Isabeau groaned and slammed both her elbows hard upon the desk, propping her head in her hands as she worked her fingers into her skull. The sudden bang silenced the tent, Cullen straightening and Leliana turning back to the Inquisitor, both now hushed.

"This will be discussed further at another time. For now, we must prepare for our talks with the Templars. I will not bend in my diplomacy, but neither do I have the patience required for what may come after this task," she said as she eyed them each carefully. "Your shared advice is appreciated, but I would have a better grip on the situation before we proceed with any end game strategies."

Both her advisor's nodded and made to leave, Isabeau requesting Cullen remain as Leliana stormed from the tent. She was immensely tempted to chance the fates and take the more under-handed approach, but she also could not help but feel Leliana's own emotions were coming into play. There was hardness to the woman, her sometimes vicious tactics usually rearing their ugly heads at any Mage involvement. Isabeau occasionally wondered if she wasn't the only one harboring significant trauma from the explosion at the Temple of Andraste.

She turned to her dutiful squire who stood nearby, "Pod, kindly fetch Rhys and Evangeline. I would wish to speak with them."

He nodded and jogged out of the tent.

"The Templar you mentioned?" Solas asked, an eyebrow quirked in curiosity.

"The very one. Rhys is a Spirit Healer," she stood and made her way to a small table of assorted goblets and wines. She poured the dark liquid and brought it to her lips, swallowing before continuing, "Cullen, do you recall Wynn from Kinloch Hold?"

"Of course, she helped slay the Archdemon."

"Correct. Rhys... is her son."

"Was... she not with him? Wynn was... a judicious woman. She _could_ improve our effor-"

Isabeau quickly interrupted him, "She's dead, Cullen."

Cullen lowered his eyes, bowing his head respectfully, "A... a shame."

Isabeau crossed her arms at Solas, "If you find Cole fascinating, you're going to have a field day with Evangeline, Solas."

"Truly?"

"Hmm," Isabeau sardonically hummed her affirmation, finishing her goblet of wine in several deep gulps as they waited for the Mage representatives to arrive. Once they had and Isabeau gave proper introductions, she had the pair recount their experiences again to Solas, the elf eventually sinking into a seat as he listened.

"And you feel no change to your person?"

Evangeline swallowed and shook her head, "Nothing. I do not know how it may have changed Wynn, but I have been here at the Reach ever since and felt nothing."

"Well, besides being alive when you should be dead," Rhys quipped, earning him a sullen frown from Evangeline.

"There is... one more thing, actually," the ex-templar began hesitantly, her eyes downcast as Isabeau's attention piqued, wondering what new information Evangeline could add.

"You are safe telling us, Ser," Solas urged gently.

"Sometime's... there's this music. At first I just thought it was little more than echoes through the fortress, it comes so rarely. Then one day I was assisting Rhys with some lyrium dust and it returned, ever so soft, but it was there."

The floor suddenly rushed up to meet Isabeau as she briefly fainted, Cullen immediately diving in an attempt to catch her. Her vision blacked in and out as she hyperventilated, Solas having now joined Cullen as they worried over her. As her breathing slowed and her vision steadied, she weakly muttered apologies to Rhys and Evangeline, everyone's eyes concernedly on Isabeau. She took Cullen's hand and allowed him to steady her on her feet, worry lining his face.

"You must forgive me, for I am spent from the day. You have been most helpful, Evangeline. Kindly see you and Rhys get some rest yourselves," Isabeau dismissed the pair, holding herself straight until they disappeared from the tent before collapsing into a chair Cullen had moved to her.

"Oh Maker," she groaned, a hand coming to cover her mouth.

"Isabeau..."

"Solas, you _heard_ her."

"Isabeau."

"Ohhh fuck. _Maker_, fuck..."

Both Solas and Cullen's voices erupted, "**Isabeau!"**

Snapped abruptly from her panicking, Isabeau took a deep breath and chugged down the water Cullen had held out for her. As the three waited in silence for her calm to return, Isabeau had less luck slowing her rampant thoughts. _What in the Void does this make _me_?_

"This... has interesting implications," Solas began slowly, Isabeau rounding on him immediately.

"You think?!"

"Inquisitor, you must calm yourself," Cullen firmly urged, his hand coming to squeeze her shoulder encouragingly. Isabeau resisted her desire to roughly shrug it away, knowing Cullen didn't deserve her temper anymore than Solas did. With another deep breath, she ran her fingers through her hair, staring intensely at the various scuffs to the metal encasing her boot. Her hand rubbed at her neck as she raised her eyes to Solas, almost feeling too ashamed to look at Cullen.

"Cole, Wynn, Evangeline," Isabeau picked nervously at the skin of her nails, "Solas, is _that... _what's wrong? _What_ I am?"

The elf's mouth was a grave line, his eyes intently boring into Isabeau's, "How would you prefer I put it?"

"Plainly."

Solas nodded his assent, "Yes, I believe you are. There are... both differences and similarities, however."

Cullen's hand on her shoulder turned into a vice grip, "Evangeline claims to have retained who she is, even _if_ she is indeed possessed. Perhaps she is not... dead?"

Isabeau shook her head at his optimism, "According to Rhys, she very much... was."

"We cannot know for sure. You asked I speak plainly and thus here it is: I think you and Evangeline are different from Cole, the young man appears more spirit than man, little to none of his... _host's_ personality exists," Solas rose from his own seat and began to pace before the two knights, "Noting that, yes, I think both you and Evangeline survived your deaths from the assistance of a spirit."

"Blood of Andraste."

Raising her head, Isabeau saw the colour had blanched from Cullen's face, wondering if she herself fared any better. He took his hand from her shoulder and shakily sat upon Isabeau's desk,

She swallowed deeply as she levelled her eyes again with Solas', "A _spirit_. Not a demon?"

"Oh, we'd know if it was a demon," he replied before he paused in his pacing to pour a goblet of wine. He held it thoughtfully to his lips before taking a quick sip, "This now makes _four_ cases I have heard of," he quickly glanced at Cullen, "The Grey Warden that devastated Kirkwall, from what Varric has told me, initially retained who he was. In time... he gradually changed. Even so, the spirit of Justice apparently morphed into Vengeance, yet Anders still mostly remained. He had not succumbed to a demon, it seems the virtue simply... _transformed _accordingly."

"That _mage_," Cullen spat out the word viciously, "was a lunatic and a coward. Do not lessen his crimes with such conjecture."

"I don't disagree his actions were heinous; I was making an observation, _Ser_," the edge in Solas' voice sliced with each word. "What is _important_ is we have three solid cases showing the possession did not alter the host. Wynn, Evangeline and now... you." Solas strode to where Isabeau sat and kneeled before her, his eyes gentler, "Do I think you... lost who you are? No, _lethallan_... I can say I do not think that."

"Then... I'm alive?"

Solas chuckled ruefully as he stood, "In an attempt to avoid an existential debate, I would ask you simply open your eyes... and take a deep breath. There is where your answer lies."

With one more shaky breath, Isabeau stood, about to question further when Cullen spoke up.

"But... she _is_ possessed?"

Groaning, Solas turned to answer, "As I said, I was trying to avoid the debate. Is this really a discussion you'd like to have, _Templar_? If so, a _holy smite_ would speed things up quite a bit."

Cullen pushed off from the desk, Isabeau reaching for his arm as the tension in the air became palpable. She put herself between the two men, her fingertips pressing against each of their chests.

"Enough, I will not have this. You _will_ remain civil... because _Maker's breath_, I _need_ you both right now."

Solas ignored Isabeau and bitingly continued, his hard gaze matching Cullen's, "Spirits are the embodiment of virtues, it is common knowledge. Would it be so terrible if _she possessed_ Honor, Strength or Hope?"

"She already does."

"Then _what_ is the difference?"

Silence hung heavy between them when suddenly both men relaxed, their shoulders sinking as they stepped back from Isabeau's outstretched arms. She released the breath she had been holding and refilled another goblet of wine, swallowing the liquid in several gulps. Cullen had crossed his arms, his head turned sullenly away from her vision.

"Anders... if he was the cause of change in the spirit, does that mean whatever I possess is at the same risk?"

Solas rubbed tiredly at his face "Yes, I believe so. But we will spend all night speaking of this, if I allow it. I am tired from our journey and there are now many answers I need to find. I can attempt to speak with Cole again but... it could prove detrimental to his progress so far."

Isabeau slowly nodded her understanding, Cole at times being closer to an adolescent than the man he appeared. At Solas' initial attempts at questioning him, the spirit had spooked quite badly and it had taken the gentle coaxing of time and familiarity for the lad to come around again.

"I understand."

"Very well, we will speak on the morrow then," he gave a shallow bow before he swiftly exited the tent. Isabeau felt another onslaught of shakes consuming her, Cullen still quiet and aloof.

"Cullen..."

"Do you believe it?"

She shrugged her arms dramatically, disregarding her goblet of wine and instead grabbing the entire bottle. Flinging herself atop the bed in one of the corners of her tent, she worried at the mouth of the bottle between sips as she considered.

"It's... _one_ way to survive an explosion."

Cullen suddenly slashed his arms across her desk, sending the items atop scattering across the floor of the tent. Isabeau abruptly sat up, seeing an attack upon Cullen as he proceeded to flip the table in a similar fashion.

"To the _Void_ with your levity!" he snapped, turning to grab the bottle from her hands. Isabeau cringed, expectantly awaiting the ensuing crash of glass, when she opened an eye to see him taking several deep swigs instead. He gasped for breath when he pulled the bottle from his lips, looking decidedly miserable and contrite as he came to slump on the bed beside her.

"I... am sorry. _Maker, _I am sorry Isabeau. This is... a shock."

In the time they managed to find together since the attack on Skyhold, the pair had become well acquainted with their shared traumas; each taking turns at waking the other from dreams or calming them in their terrors. Isabeau took pains to be as respectful of Cullen's triggers as he was of hers, but the unfolding of the night's events had them both burned out. Cullen had _never_ lashed out at her before nor been destructive; Isabeau was sad to see the agony of his disbelief.

"We're riding that wave together, I think..." Isabeau began carefully, relieved to feel his hand tighten in hers when she reached for it, the other taking the wine and bringing it back to her lips. "I didn't... really like my desk, anyway."

Cullen groaned through a rueful chuckle, "Maker's breath, must you deflect everything with humour?"

Isabeau smiled sadly and stood to undress, peeling off her clothes and armor as Cullen watched. A part of her was almost insecure under his scrutiny. _Is he looking for... _signs_ of possession? _She briefly wondered _how_ hard old habits died. Once down to her smalls, Isabeau returned to the bed and straddled Cullen's hips, swallowing hard at the sorrowful look he gave her.

"Please don't," she croaked.

"What?"

"Look at me like that."

A large hand came to tiredly pinch the bridge of his nose, Cullen sighing deeply. He released the pinch, his hands now coming to grasp her hips as he guided her off his lap. As Isabeau began to fret his absence, he again surprised her when he began to work off his own armor and tunic. Once down to his breeches, he climbed into the bed beside her, an arm coming around her shoulders to hold her tightly against his chest.

Cullen cleared his throat as he cautiously began, "At first I felt ill... and then I felt frightened, the more I listened, the more _red_ I began to see. The demons, Kirkwall-" he paused and swallowed thickly, "-It all came back."

Isabeau stared blankly at the peaks in the ceiling of her tent, "All I could think of was... following that music. And then there I was, outside the Fade. I was _alive_; I thought of my family and mourned the dead around me," she ground the heels of her palm into her eyes and turned to look at Cullen. "Truthfully? I suffocated my curiosity for that day, too cowardly to face it; to have a probable answer now? It's... disturbingly rewarding."

"A... morbid view," Cullen objected, swinging out from under her to prop an arm against the beams of the tester, looking down at her worriedly. "Like Evangeline, you truly can't recall feeling different?"

Her palms slid up Cullen's abdomen and chest, coming to rest behind his neck, "Cullen, I swear it; it was like I blacked out or fell asleep. One minute the world burned and I with it... the next I was following the music to the Breach." She sat up on her elbows and softly pressed her lips to his, Cullen's twitching before kissing back in response. As their kiss deepened, Cullen lowered his arm from the tester, instead laying both down at Isabeau's sides, their affections slow but passionate.

When they broke away, Isabeau reached and rand a hand through his hair, "_Do_ I feel any different...?"

He stared at her with a sad thoughtfulness then, seeming to come to a realization as he pressed his forehead to hers and sighed, "No. No, I suppose you don't."

"Cullen, we still don't know if... if it's even _right_," She let out a long breath as she reached and cupped his cheek in her hand. "I _tire _so much of these intricacies of fantasy and games within the Game; I just need... one thing, just _one_ thing, to make sense."

"Isabeau..."

_Could you do it? _Her mind viciously berated her. _Could you subject him to torment every time he looks at you and thinks 'demon'? More importantly, __**could you**__?_

"If this is the line in the sand for you, I respect that."

Cullen frowned, "I... what? No. _Maker_, Isabeau..."

"You... can manage this?"

He leaned down and kissed her deeply, smiling tiredly when he pulled away, "I'd like to continue in my _efforts_, yes. Isabeau, we could agonize over this until it ruins us... and I have had enough ruin in my life. " Isabeau's eyes began to burn and blur as he held her tenderly, "I have... come to care about you, a _great deal_. I won't let the... opportunity go to waste, but I won't always be perfect in my execution, either. I don't know what to believe or expect anymore, I have resigned myself to these fates; I do not regret any of it."

Cullen rolled to lie at Isabeau's side, his arms pulling her back on top of him as they embraced tightly. Isabeau adjusted and turned to spoon his side, "I have... come to love you, too. However, what you did... the desk? I know I made light of it, but it cannot happen again, Cullen. I have enough in this world to give me a fright as it is."

He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it repeatedly, "You have my word and apologies, my lady..." Isabeau moaned in relief as he rolled to face her, their legs entwining as Isabeau felt the proof of his enduring desire pressed against her. Cullen then reached between them, his hand pushing aside her smalls as he guided himself inside her. Isabeau tried to find solace in their intimacy, her arousal dancing on the edges of her grasp, but her mind and heart were too heavy. Cullen's effort's eventually slowed to a stop.

"Isabeau?"

She raised a shaky hand to cover her face as the sobs began to wrack her body, the weight of her existence suddenly too heavy upon her shoulders. The dam burst and soon she was muffling her mewling into Cullen's protective arms, the knight whispering words of courage and love in her ears as he hushed and soothed her. When her agony subsided and she gulped in shaky, steadying breaths, Cullen loosened his embrace, the pair laying back in exhaustion.

As Isabeau fell asleep to the feel of Cullen's fingers through her hair, a soft melody danced soothingly at the edges of her hearing, a smile spreading across her face as she took heart and vowed to not surrender her hope ever again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Note: Hm, I think I should warn of violence and possible... triggering (?) in this chapter so, kindly read with caution. **

"Where is the Lord Seeker?!"

Pain exploded in Cullen's abdomen as his tormenter buried a gauntleted fist into his gut. Nausea built in the back of his throat, Cullen coughing out a half-gag, his vision blurry and bloody from the on-going abuse since the envoy's capture. Isabeau had lead a small party including himself, Rhys and Evangeline to entreat a cessation of the Mage-Templar conflict; the Templar's had overrun and imprisoned them in turn. The Inquisitor's guards having been cut down and eradicated bloodily, the remaining four of the party were taken hostage and had been promptly separated.

After the coughs finished wracking his battered body, he slowly raised his head and seethed, "The Inquisition... _has no_ _knowledge of_ _him_."

His assailant was no stranger; an old toady of Meredith's, Ser Karras was now a _Knight-Captain _in the renegade Order. At the nullification of the Nevarran Accord, he had been the first to incite anarchy amongst Cullen's command in Kirkwall; Cullen had regretted not killing the man himself before leaving the cursed city. That regret now poignantly bruising Cullen's eyes and jaw, Karras appeared to be revelling in the sight of Cullen's chains with each blow he assaulted the Marshall with.

The other Templar Cullen did not recognize, watching as the knight made his way over to where Rhys was chained next to him, a knee brutally connecting with the mage's own stomach. "Where is the Lord Seeker?!"

Rhys answered in the form of vomit upon the templar's boots, neither of he nor Cullen admitting fault for the missing and assumed dead leader. For what felt like hours now it had been the same procession of questions and abuse, Cullen trying to bury his fear for Isabeau as he stoically accepted each hit. Rhys had fared no better, repeatedly having his magic drained and ripped from him in addition to the physical onslaught.

Ser Karras slashed an arm before him, the other templar pausing in his assault, "Enough! Bring in the other two!"

Isabeau and Evangeline were unceremoniously shoved through the flap of the large tent, the pair landing awkwardly in a heap. Cullen struggled to subdue his howl of fury at the sight of Isabeau's battered person, Evangeline equally bruised and bloodied next to her. Rhys had a more difficult time voicing his displeasure, the Silencing that fused his lips allowing little more than a groan deep in the back of his throat. Karras strode to the two women, he and his partner yanking their chains until the two stood, Isabeau led by Karras to secure her arms and legs to the sturdy stake buried deeply in the center of the tent.

"Inquisitor," he sardonically greeted in a mocking bow before swiftly backhanding her with his gauntlet, "Perhaps your _chief_ shall be more willing to... _corroborate _while in your presence?"

"Karras!" Cullen roared, his wrists exploding with pain as he pulled uselessly on the shackles.

Isabeau laughed bitterly, "Oh, but you are stupid."

He backhanded her again, eliciting a groan that was then followed by a round of broken, harsh chuckling. Isabeau shook her head as she stared intently at the ground, each word venom upon her lips, "My _armies_ are at your very throats and you have captured and tortured the Mage's envoy; how _do_ you foresee this ending?"

"It was always going to end with the destruction of the Mages, _Inquisitor_. Your arrival was unexpected but it is _manageable_," Karras growled, viciously grabbing Isabeau's hair and jerking her head back. Cullen again pulled and yanked on the chains attached to his own stake, his feet sliding uselessly in the dirt as he watched Karras lecherously appreciating the nape of Isabeau's neck, his hand slowly raising a blade to just behind her ear. "Only a _pathetic_ portion of your forces are available to uselessly piss in our path. Even if the damned mages came to your army's aide, we have _legions _of **true** Templars and Seekers here and at the ready; you **will** be overrun."

Isabeau spat bloodily at his face, "We shall see."

With a flick of his wrist, Karras sliced off the top of Isabeau's ear, Cullen screaming in unison of Isabeau's own cries of pain. Rage turned his vision red as he watched Karras manhandle her, disgusted and humiliated by his helplessness.

"You **will** tell me what you know of the Lord Seeker, Inquisitor!"

"We know **nothing**!" Isabeau bellowed in her agony, "The Inquisition had **no** part in his disappearance!"

Evangeline's arm was brutally twisted behind her by their other captor, Karras rounding on her now, "The Mages then? Confess to your treachery _Knight-Captain_ and the Order may find mercy for you."

When Evangeline replied with little more than an obstinate stare, Karras whipped around and made for the small table of decanters, pouring himself a goblet of wine as he stared at his captives. "We _will_ have our answer once the Mage's are destroyed," he moseyed over to Isabeau, idly pouring wine into the open cuts of her legs as she hissed in pain, "You and Ser Cullen are too valuable however, _Inquisitor_. We are to keep you for... bargaining purposes. Amongst others..."

Karras began to slide a hand up Isabeau's ribs as he leaned in close and slid a tongue along her jaw line. Just as Isabeau twisted her head away in disgust, a blade suddenly exploded out of Karras' open mouth, sprinkling the side of her face with blood. As Karras sputtered and coughed from the impact, his face was viciously shoved into the stake beside her neck, crumpling from the force in a sickening crunch of gore. Cullen's eyes went wide as suddenly Cole appeared behind Karras, wordlessly yanking the blade out the back of the vile and now dead templar's head.

"Captain-"

A pair of hands appeared behind the other templar's alarmed face, wickedly ripping and snapping his neck before he could cry out in further protest. Leliana fully appeared and silently stepped through the flap of the tent, pulling the carcass of the knight with her before laying him next to where Cole had moved Karras. The pair silently worked at unlocking their beleaguered companion's shackles, Cullen immediately moving to Isabeau to cradle her in his arms. She was shaking as she clung to him and the one side of her neck was stained red with a torrent of blood, Cullen cringing at the sight of her mangled ear.

"Cole... Leliana. Maker bless you both," he breathed as Leliana helped the pair stand, Cole in turn steadying Rhys with an arm over the mage's shoulder. Evangeline moved to assist Cole as Isabeau raised her head and pulled herself from her advisor's grasp, staring at their rescuers in awe.

"How?"

Leliana gave a small smile, "Our friend Cole has... a curious but useful ability. When you and your cohorts failed to return from the treating, we chose to act. It was not difficult for us to slip through their perimeter. We found you easily enough."

Rhys coughed and spat out a glob of bloody spit, "That is all well and good but we are deep behind enemy lines and not all of us can disappear so conveniently."

"We must make haste," Leliana began as she made her way to the dead Templars and began stripping their armor, "We cannot risk alerting them to our presence, otherwise I would have you heal our compatriot's wounds, mage." She beckoned over Cullen and Isabeau, speedily helping them pull on the various pieces of plate, "Cole and I can lead the way undetected, the rest of you must perform a mummers farce, I am afraid."

Cullen shrugged his shoulders as he adjusted to Karras' poor fitting armor, begrudgingly accepting its weight as he considered Leliana's plan, "You would have us walk through the camp?"

"Yes," the spy hastily confirmed, passing vials of potions to Cullen and Isabeau, the red liquid allowing a modicum of relief to Cullen's, and surely Isabeau's, wounds. "As Cole and I work our way ahead and clear the path as quietly as possible, the four of you must follow. With luck from the Maker, you will appear to be simply transporting prisoners."

Isabeau sighed in relief as she swallowed back the last of her potion, nodding determinedly at Leliana, "Very well, Leliana... and thank you. Both of you." She gave both Cole and Leliana warm embraces, the affection and gratitude for her friends clear through her bruises. "You will need to signal us as we approach the break in their lines, we may escape the bulk of the camp but once in the open, it will be a mad dash."

"You are correct; Cassandra has arranged for a portion of our forces to meet us, a platoon of Mage's have also agreed to join her," Leliana whispered as she quickly poked her head out a flap in the tent. "The way is clear, we must go."

Cullen tested the balance to Karras' sword, finding it adequate as Cole gently tied a set of ropes around Evangeline and Rhys' hands. Isabeau stretched at Cullen's side, the two of them pulling helms over their heads as they watched Leliana dart from the tent, Cole simply fading from sight. Isabeau lead their way out, Cullen following behind Evangeline as they made their tentative escape through the camp. As they walked briskly through the various pockets of tenting and rabbles of Seekers and Templars, Cullen absently noted the various bodies that appeared along their path in the dark, left in positions that made them appear as at rest or sleeping upon the ground. He felt a great, new appreciation for Leliana's abilities in that moment.

Under the light of the moons and with braziers illuminating their way, eventually the horde of their enemies forces appeared to thin, the troupe suddenly stopped by a pair of perimeter guards. Cullen watched Isabeau tense before him as he surreptitiously cut the ropes binding Evangeline and Rhys. He prayed to the Maker that Cassandra's forces were close by when Isabeau's gauntlet was torn from her, the green of her mark setting them all alight when suddenly she tore the sword from her back and spun, deftly cleaving the surprised Seeker before her. As Cullen leapt and helped her cut down the other guard, shouts of alarm exploded around them, the four sprinting out into the open earth between the camp and Andoral's Reach.

Arrows fell down around them; Rhys executing a protective barrier as their feet collectively pounded the earth, Cullen's wounds and tender lungs screaming in protest. Cole appeared between Rhys' and Evangeline's sides, Leliana now bringing up their rear as they made for their escape. A horde of cavalry and foot soldiers soon appeared to be riding to meet them, Cassandra appearing at its head. Once they were closer, the night sky erupted with light as the mage's in the rear unleashed their might, fire, lightning and all manner of abilities raining down mayhem upon the pursuing Seekers and Templars behind the escapees.

The small party melded with their forces as Rhys' barrier extended and began to join his fellow mage's in their efforts. Soon, their entire collection of soldiers and mages were encased within a great shield of energy. Cullen turned to look behind them, watching as their enemies began to pull back, knowing that they would mount a massive attack in retaliation once reorganized. Isabeau ripped off her helm and immediately strode to meet Cassandra. The comrades clasped forearms, Cassandra shaking her head in dismay at the state of her Inquisitor.

"They tortured you?!"

"All of us," Isabeau spat in disgust, angrily burying her borrowed blade deep into the ground as she looked around at her soldiers and the mages, "I am **done** with hesitation and diplomacy. Whatever differences we have with the Mage's, we shall not share with **them**!" Her hand thrust outwards, bursting with glowing green vapors as she pointed back at the Templar and Seeker army. "Cullen, they will spend tonight regrouping, yes?"

He nodded, "Yes, though I do not question we can expect an attack come sunrise."

"They will have no such quarter," she growled as she turned to Rhys and Evangeline, "You have us. If your people's assistance here stands for anything, join us and let us finish this travesty."

Rhys nodded solemnly as horses were brought for the four ex-prisoners, Isabeau bidding farewell to Cole, Cass and Leliana before climbing onto her horse and immediately spurring it, galloping ahead for the Mage's fortress. Cullen, Rhys and Evangeline followed in turn and soon they exploded through the front gates of the Reach's stronghold. Isabeau unceremoniously peeled off what she could of the Templar armor, a group of mages that included First Enchanter Irving rapidly approaching from the main stairs of the courtyard. Cullen tugged at the various pieces of his own armor as the assortment of panicked mages came to a stop before them.

"Rhys!" Irving called concernedly as he came and assisted his fellow mage from his horse, immediately placing a vial of Lyrium in the exhausted mage's hands. The younger mage gave his thanks but declined, explaining he felt fine before meeting his colleague's gaze.

"We cannot wait any longer Irving; we _must_ join the Inquisition and finish this," Rhys gasped imploringly, "Grand Enchanter or not, we are out of time."

"Irving," Cullen said in greeting, the old acquaintances warily shaking hands when the elderly Enchanter turned and stared at him in surprise.

"Ser Cullen. This is… unexpected. It has been a great deal of time."

Isabeau coughed distractedly, "If I may interrupt your reunion, we have much to discuss First Enchanter… and little time to do so."

Irving straightened and gave a somber nod in assent, "Yes, Inquisitor. It is… most unfortunate the Templars resorted to such extremes. Might I ask why they… _kept_ you?" he asked as he extended an arm and gestured the group towards the interior of the fortress.

"They appear convinced either the Inquisition or the Mage consortium are at fault for Lord Seeker Lambert's disappearance," Isabeau paused as they entered a great hall, numerous other mages crowding tightly into the room, "I cannot speak for you or your constituents, but the Inquisition was not involved."

"Nor the Mages, to my knowledge," Irving began slowly, "though, admittedly, we have… separatists that may have acted independently. It is unfortunate, but I cannot say for sure." He turned then to the assembly of mages surrounding them, a sad and tense expression on his face as several higher ranking Enchanters came to stand in a circle around them.

Various spirit healers began tending to the wounded party, Isabeau letting out an audible hiss of pain as a young girl gently held a poultice to the Inquisitor's ear, working at wiping the blood from Isabeau's neck as she did so. Evangeline was encased in motes of light as Rhys worked at her wounds, another mage hesitantly asking Cullen if he would accept his assistance. He nodded in acquiesce before magic began to work at his open sores and tired muscles.

"They will mount an attack by sunrise, First Enchanter," Cullen cautioned as he came to stand tall at Isabeau's side, his pain beginning to subside as spells worked at his wounds. "Whatever differences we may share, we must be united against their forces. Otherwise, I fear the Inquisition will be forced to retreat… I shudder to think what that might mean for your own people."

A heavy, exhausted sigh blew from the First Enchanter's lips as he nodded in solemn agreement, "We… would fare better with your assistance. I cannot make any promises should we survive." Irving rubbed at his forehead as he regarded Cullen, "You are still… loyal to the Chantry?"

"I am loyal to what the Templar Order originally stood for. It is too early to make promises however, Irving."

Isabeau crossed her arms, "One of my advisors was a servant to Justinia… and, as I recall, there to assist the mages the day the Whitespire fell. Perhaps the Chantry sympathizes with your cause more than you think?"

Another mage broke from the circle around them, stepping towards Isabeau with furious eyes, "The Chantry has _repressed_ and _abused_ us for hundreds of years, girl. We cannot come to heel only to return to such torment"

"I did not say you would," Isabeau replied with a calculated slowness before she took a visible breath and turned to face the populated hall. "I have felt but a brief sting of your torment first hand, I can commiserate only so much… but we will waste too much time debating. You stand upon the precipice of your destinies; the world burns around you and something far greater than the foe hammering at your door endangers _your very existence_. Join me and I will _help_ you. Victory and safety will be yours… or remain… and **fall **into the ensuing chaos." She swallowed as she looked down upon her hand as she closed it into a glowing fist, "Until you have decided, what happens _after_ is irrelevant."

Cullen could not fight the pride that spread his lips into a small smile.

"It's true!"

A dwarf suddenly burst from the conclave of mages, Cullen startling in surprise as Isabeau did the same, the Inquisitor noticeably shrinking in her posture as she regarded the curious woman.

"You are…?"

"Dagna, Smith caste; Orzammar and previously, Kinloch Hold," she replied curtly as she came to stand before Isabeau, comically tilting her head back as she met Trevelyan's gaze. "I had heard the rumours but to _see_ it is something else," she muttered as she unabashedly grasped Isabeau's hand, rigorously inspecting it before Cullen could reach and intervene.

"Well… met, Dagna of Orzammar," Isabeau ventured uncertainly, "You're familiar with my… abilities then?"

"Oh yes, I began work on my thesis once I felt the reports were conclusive," she prattled, raising her gaze to First Enchanter Irving, "You'd all be daft not to, you know. You've got a living Lyrium battery at your back," she paused as she looked Isabeau up and down, evaluating her. "Er… Front? Whatever. I say do it."

"I beg your pardon?"

Both Cullen and Isabeau replied in unison, Irving crossing his arms in curious contemplation as he seemed to regard Isabeau anew. Rhys snapped his fingers as he strode to Dagna's side.

"I knew I felt something," he began as he paced before them, "At first I thought it was just adrenaline but… there was a palpable endurance to my mana during our escape." Rhys crossed his arms as he rested his chin between his thumb and finger, "We had been tortured for hours yet our dash barely drained my mana at all."

Cullen felt ill at the implications, suddenly doubting his sobriety.

_All this time… could I still be dependent?_

'Speak quick Dagna of Orzammar for my time is short," Isabeau grimly commanded, the excited dwarf instantly sedated at her tone.

"Duster terms? Consider Lyrium the primordial goop of the Fade in our world. It's the last physical remnants of our creation. The debate's always gonna be out on what that creation entailed, but Lyrium remains and it's like any other living thing; it can get _sick_."

"Dagna," Irving hurried at her.

"Okay, so, these breeches, your hand? You're acting as a conduit except _you've_ got an activation switch. Surely by now you`ve realized you can _use_ it for more than a moving lightshow during speeches?"

Isabeau slowly nodded, Cullen left agape at the dwarfs gall.

"I'm not finished my work so take this with a grain of salt, but I believe you can, in a sense, control _mana _without the use of Lyrium; sort of act like a dam between too much and too little. Means more power, less… chance of demons and the nasty bits that come with them," the dwarf finished, her cheeks flushed as she shrugged, "Like I said, it's a theory."

"You… shall have to meet a friend of mine," Isabeau said with a soft chuckle as she squeezed Dagna's shoulder encouragingly. "It is a compelling theory. If it can help sway your compatriots in joining our struggle, I welcome it."

"Oh I do. Just do that boosting thing of yours and I think everyone here will feel the difference."

Cullen turned to Irving and his collection of advisor's and colleagues, "First Enchanter?"

"There is… little choice in the matter. You are welcome to move and prepare your forces behind our walls, Ser. I pray to the Maker we not only survive the onslaught, but can agree to a peaceful compromise between our causes in its wake."

"Excellent," Isabeau began as she clutched Irving's forearm tightly, "I am ordering an immediate attack. My forces may not be great in number, but I intend on harassing them to your gates. You will need to be prepared for when we are in range of your walls."

"Of course, our best tacticians will be put to work immediately."

"Very well, I will prepare my men."

"Inquisitor!"

Cullen and Isabeau turned at Evangeline's cry, the stalwart Knight stepping forward from Rhys' embrace, "I would join you. On the battlefield."

"You are most welcome, Ser Knight," Isabeau replied graciously before turning back to Irving, "The bulk of my men will remain, your sally-port's must be well defended so my party and I have a viable retreat. I would also ask of healers to join us in our initial advance."

Rhys stepped forward then, several others in the hall joining him as Cullen looked on approvingly. Isabeau nodded at his side.

"Whoever your gods are, my new friends… may they be with us this night."


	12. Chapter 12

**For Greymolly**

/+++/

"I'm coming with you."

"You're not."

"Isabeau."

The Inquisitor crossed her arms as she sternly regarded her obstinate Knight, "Cullen, I need you commanding my forces from the fortress."

"These are highly trained _Seekers_ and _Templars_, Isabeau. They are not the rabble you are accustomed to. I _will_ be at your side."

She took a steadying breath as she finished buckling her gauntlet to her marked hand, its glow muted under the leather and plate. Lowering her dragon-shaped helm snuggly upon her head, Isabeau strode for where her weapons lay.

"And if we both fall? What then?" She asked as she regarded her shield and sword, opting for her short sword for dual-wielding; she would have her shield brought to her after the initial assault. With an agile swishing of the twin blades, Isabeau tested the balance between the two, hoping the Spirit Healers would prove proficient and negate her need for a shield. Given the nature of their plan, Isabeau wanted to use speed and dexterity over brute force.

Cullen stood before her then and rested his hands on her shoulders, "We won't."

"We _might_. You said it yourself Cullen, we barely have the men for this battle. I will not have the Inquisition crumble in our combined absence; I _need_ you in case the worst happens. Please… don't argue me on this, love. I do not will it lightly."

With a deep sigh from her paramour, Isabeau was relieved as Cullen relented, the Templar coming behind her to help fasten and tighten the last of her cuirass' belts. He leaned down, pushing her hair aside to plant a soft kiss at the back of her ear. Isabeau reached up and cupped the side of his head in her gauntlet, smiling sadly in their moment of intimacy.

"If they… Smite you…" He began brokenly, Isabeau wincing at his worry.

"We do not know what will happen for sure. I intend on killing any who try."

Isabeau sheathed her swords and turned into his arms, burying her face into his neck as the pair embraced tightly. When they broke apart, Cullen leaned down and kissed her gently, pulling back after to smile at her proudly.

"Do not dally; flank them and lure them to the walls as fast as they'll follow you."

Isabeau nodded as her hands rested upon the pommels of her swords, "You think they will?"

"They always intended on assaulting the fortress, you are simply expediting the process... and hopefully cutting down a swath of the bastards with you in their confusion." Cullen's back straightened as he gazed at Isabeau pointedly, "Now, repeat it to me."

As she tightened a pouch full of potions and regents about her hips, Isabeau paused to down several gulps from her goblet of wine. She turned and considered Cullen thoughtfully, "We'll loop and approach from the eastern hills while Cole, Leliana and her agents penetrate their ranks from the rear. Meet in the middle and cut through their advancing flank until we hit their front lines. Retreat immediately to the keep and defend the walls and fortress perimeter."

"You give no pause. No quarter. Cut until you draw blood and immediately double back," Cullen clarified sternly, his hands grasping her forearms. The combined forces outside their door had spent the last few hours assembling as Isabeau had moved her forces within Andoral's Reach. She knew they were running out of time for any surprise attack._ Need to hit them with their breeches down as far as possible. _

"There will be a river's worth to float my way back, love," she jested, standing on her toes to kiss Cullen on his scar.

He leaned back after and gently pushed Isabeau's rogue hair from her face, "I love you... return to me."

"Always," she whispered as she gave his hand an encouraging squeeze before she turned to leave, pausing at the threshold of his temporary quarters' door. "I love you, too. Be brave."

Isabeau choked back the weight that sat in the back of her throat, rapidly blinking at her burning eyes as she made her way through the hall and down the stairs to the yard at the back of the fortress. All of her usual companions were already assembled amongst the horses and men, patiently awaiting her arrival, the addition of Rhys and Evangeline included. With a deep breath she approached them, smiling warmly with pride as she looked over her friends.

"Vivienne, Solas… I would have you two stay. I need representatives to remain for the Inquisition's purposes," she smiled ruefully, "And someone at my back on these walls that I trust indefinitely."

"As you command, Inquisitor," Vivienne acquiesced, Solas nodding his own confirmation.

"We do not linger in this, take your kills but _do not stop moving_," Isabeau turned as Rhys' group of Spirit Healers came to join them. "Healers, focus your efforts on shielding us and yourselves and any Haste you may be able to offer in between. We are to be a veritable storm, quick and devastating."

The heads around her collectively nodded their ascent, Isabeau turning to stride towards the sally-ports leading to the mountain paths at the back of Andoral's Reach. Her small cavalry moved ahead of her immediate party and platoons of foot soldiers, Cullen's orders already relayed amongst the various ranks. It took the small army almost an hour to make their way carefully through the surrounding hilltops, the edge of the Templar forces finally coming into view between the rock faces below them.

Raising a hand to signify the halting of her men, Isabeau scuttled towards the front line of her cavalry, darting between cracks in the rock face to minimize detection. Luck had come to their aide as the moon became covered in cloud, blanketing the hills and battle field in darkness. The Inquisitor knew she had the tactical advantage for a finite period of time, verifying with her officers before signalling the assault. As one, she and her platoons exploded out from the cliff faces, barreling down the hills like water upon rock, the thunder of her cavalry and the pounding of boots drowning out her battle cry.

Bull and Evangeline kept pace at Isabeau's side as the three launched themselves through the cavalry's wake; darting between ruined tents and trampled, dead bodies to cut down any Templars or Seekers that managed to remain standing. Evangeline raised her shield and bashed in the face of an enemy as they passed him, the Templar thrown off his feet as he went crashing to the ground. Isabeau danced around Bull's hammer swings, spinning and slicing at anything outside his reach.

Suddenly jolted forward, Isabeau cried out in surprise as she felt a stone sharply collide with her shoulder. When she turned to glance, she came to see an arrow still buried within the magical barrier around her, her plate chipped but not pierced. She looked behind her and met Rhys' eyes at her rear, the Spirit Healer nodding quickly at her before darting for Evangeline. Isabeau double-timed it back to Bull's flank, slashing her swords down as one upon the back of a Seeker agitating the Quinari. As she spun around the enemy, she scissored her swords and sliced through bone and marrow, severing the head.

"Haha! Neat, boss!" Bull quipped as he shoved a huge Templar off him, swinging his hammer high before bringing it down to pulverize the knight's cuirass. The pair sprinted ahead to where Evangeline and Rhys were making way, the party a living battering ram as Isabeau's forces advanced ahead and at their flanks. Finally, they seemed to meet up with another battle, the flashes of Cole appearing between his targets relieving Isabeau as her muscles burned in protest of her attacks. The mages had done well healing her but her body was still taxed from her torture, Isabeau coaxing out every last drop of her endurance.

Leaping at a pair of Seeker's harassing Leliana, Isabeau tucked and rolled between them, her blades out and slicing at the exposed leather at the back of their ankles. As the men fell screaming, Isabeau reeled as she and Leliana brought their blades through each man's heart. Her spymaster helped her to her feet before swiftly nocking an arrow and releasing it upon an advancing enemy. A horn sounded and their eyes met briefly before they broke into a run, the signal for the retreat biting at their heels as their boots pounded the earth. Cole was a blur ahead of them, his movements between the Fade and Thedas rapid, entrancing and deadly as he cleared them a path.

Andoral's walls loomed in the near distance, a great, bright barrier lowering itself steadily over the fortress. Isabeau dashed under the edges of the encroaching shield, sliding on her knees as she turned and ushered what remained of her foot soldiers in, Varric near strolling as he breezed through the gap unbent.

"Maker's _ass_, Varric," she sighed, the weight on her heart lifted slightly by his ill-timed antics. When the barrier finally settled upon the earth, she slowly stood and backed up, watching as various projectiles uselessly bounced off it. With a great shake of her head she turned to reassemble the men who remained with her, pained by the noticeable losses but relieved to see her usual companions had fared relatively well.

_I never take them anywhere nice._

She looked up at the mages and archers situated across the walls of the Reach, the main funnel of energy for the shield coming from within the center courtyard; Irving and the other senior Enchanters lending their might. As she felt herself awash with a pleasing energy, Isabeau became noticeably rejuvenated; her muscle's aches lessened and her lungs finally cooled as cuts and scrapes were reduced to bruises. Rhys was nearby tending to Evangeline and Sera's wounds, Bull, Varric and Dorian looking a bit harried but otherwise no worse for wear. She looked up to see Solas atop a parapet behind her, Isabeau waving her thanks. The relief was palpable as they used the opportunity to prepare, knowing the Templars would eventually bring down the barrier once close enough to project their abilities.

Another horn sounded as Isabeau ordered her soldiers back into formation, platoons of shields and spears joining them from the fortress' sally-ports, Cassandra's troops included. Isabeau made her way through them and her foot soldiers, coming to stand between Dorian and Evangeline as the earth seemed to shake from the incoming horde. Cassandra had brought Isabeau's shield as she had requested, Isabeau savoring its weight and the safety it could afford. As great streams of lightning and hellfire exploded from the walls behind her, Isabeau watched in awe as the mages unleashed their combined fury. Great storms raged and decimated chunks of the Templar forces; the crowded formations of armor leading to deadly chain lightning that raked through their ranks.

The first waves of Smite's and Cleanses began to echo off the barrier, great explosions assaulting Isabeau's ears with their impacts. Raising her sword in the air, Isabeau screamed the command forward and jogged behind her shield men as they pushed through the weakened barrier. She wanted to take advantage of the shield for as long as possible, allowing greater numbers of her troops to reinforce her rear from the sally-ports unharmed. As her shields advanced, the roar of battle became near deafening as they broke through the enemies ranks like a prow in water. Isabeau darted backwards and nodded at Bull, the Quinari immediately understanding and getting into position ahead of her. He laced his hands together and squatted before sending her an insane smile.

"Just wanna say; I'm _so_ happy you're letting me do this."

"Shut up," Isabeau breathed as she tightened her grip on her pommel and shield, running at Bull before leaping and pressing her foot into his palms, the Quinari releasing like a spring to send her hurtling over the wall of shields. It was a struggle to not close her eyes as she flew through the air, tucking forward as she came roughly to the ground and rolled upon her shield, knocking out several Templar's legs in her wake. Briefly allowing a feel of relief over not getting gutted in the endeavour, Isabeau leapt up to parry an incoming blade. Her sword slashed across her assailant's throat just as Sera flew over a portion of shields, deftly firing an arrow mid-air before landing in a feline fashion across from Isabeau's position.

"You let him do it!" Isabeau cried out jubilantly as she dodged the shield of the templar charging at her, fluidly dodging and coming up behind to rake her sword down his spine, shattering and tearing the buckles to his cuirass before unceremoniously bashing him to the ground with her shield.

Sera nonchalantly stabbed her dagger through the eye slits of a templar's helm, yanking it back and tossing it into the neck of a second assailant in several fluid movements, "You looked like you had fun. Why not?" The elf laughed as she flawlessly nocked arrows, enemies falling to her precision as they approached. As the pair finished clearing a perimeter, Isabeau turned to see her shield formation split long enough for her remaining party to gush forward, Bull running full tilt with a battle roar as Evangeline and Varric followed. Rhys and Dorian remained in the relative safety of the shield wall as they literally worked their magic; Cole dancing through its perimeter as he dropped any encroaching enemies with a blade through the helm or back.

Isabeau decided then that she _very_ much appreciated Cole.

As she shook the thought from her head, she suddenly dropped to her knees, her shield shooting up; Isabeau grunted with effort as she deflected the Seeker's incoming mace. She tilted her wrist back and slammed it into the ribbing of her attacker's armor while their extended arms exposed their flank, the blade in her gauntlet punching through leather, flesh and bone. With a great heave she pulled back, knocking the crumpling body to the ground as her hand started to glow impossibly bright. The mages were beginning to try and tap into her energy, Isabeau turning and shoving her sword in the air back to the fortress, mimicking her actions when closing Tears, as a great eruption of green light cascaded from her fingertips. Screaming from the sensation, Isabeau continued for as long as she dared, formations of her shields and soldiers layering around her protectively as the beam of light split the sky above her.

Evangeline suddenly came crashing towards the formation, a spear from one of Isabeau's troops impaling the Seeker that harried at the Knight's heels.

"INQUISITOR!" she screamed as she exploded through the ranks, "Stop! You must STOP!"

With a great effort, Isabeau tried to cease the beam of energy, her face growing twisted in fear as she realized with a start that she couldn't. Suddenly a wave of energy slammed into her, pain exploding behind her eyes as the connection was viciously severed by Evangeline's Holy Smite. The Templar caught Isabeau in her arms as she collapsed, the Inquisitor's consciousness returning to the sound of apologies profusely flowing from Evangeline's lips.

"No," Isabeau breathed in pained relief as her vision cleared, "You did the right thing…" She rubbed at her forehead, feeling a peculiar sense of relief over surviving the Templar's ability. _At least it can't kill me... Cullen should be relieved. Though, _Maker_, that could have turned out differently. _

She filed the morbid curiosity away as she regarded the woman before her, "Why though?"

"I could feel it, Inquisitor. Whatever you did, it was not just to the mage's benefit," Evangeline explained as she lifted Isabeau to her feet. "The… change was exponential, my lady. The Lyrium in my blood _called_ to it; I cringe to think its prolonged effect on our enemies combined forces."

Realization dawned on Isabeau like a bucket of cold water poured down her back.

"A runner… I NEED A RUNNER!" Isabeau screamed in alarm at her embattled forces, a spike of panic shooting through her as their plan crumbled to her feet. Shoving his way through a collection of the shields surrounding Isabeau, her squire Pod appeared. _Thank the Maker for Podrick. _

She clutched at his shoulders gravely.

"Make haste for the sally-port, you _must_ warn Ser Cullen: Change in tactics. I cannot assist the mages; my connection will support the Templar's equally. Now GO!"

Isabeau flexed her grip on her pommel as she watched her squire sprint for the rear, silently praying the mages had sufficient Lyrium stores. The wrench in their plan was significant, Isabeau now painfully aware of the _vast_ numbers encroaching upon her comparably smaller forces as she and Evangeline threw themselves back into the fray. Just as Isabeau bashed a Seeker to the ground, burying the edge of her shield into his throat, a man called out from behind her.

"Galyan!"

Cassandra appeared and rushed from Isabeau's flank to meet the approaching mage, the pair embracing warmly as they met on the battle field. The brunette and bearded mage, Galyan, expelled an arch of flames at the enemies around them, Cassandra fluidly releasing their embrace to throw and impale a Templar that had charged the mage from behind, her sword pinning the knight to the ground. Isabeau jogged towards them as Cassandra quickly retrieved her bastard sword, cutting down any enemies in her way. Grunting as a few of her their swords made it past her defenses in her haste, Isabeau fought to keep her balance as they connected with the magical barrier that still surrounded her.

"Friend of yours?" she gritted through her teeth as the three of them fought together, the battle field pure pandemonium as steel and the elements clashed with epic ferocity around them.

"You could say that," Cassandra answered as she and Isabeau flanked the soldier harassing Galyan. They smashed their shields in unison, sandwiching the assailant before Galyan buried a blade under the Templar's chin.

"Inquisitor, I have a message from your-" He was interrupted as he erected a barrier of ice, blocking an assault of arrows from hitting them "-General and the other Enchanters. I'm ah, Enchanter Regalyan D'Marcall..." He panted his full name out as the brief lull in the assault allowed them to speak, "Just... Galyan though, if you would."

"Well met, Enchanter Galyan," Isabeau said as she tersely shook the mages outstretched hand, "Speak quickly now."

He swallowed thickly before continuing, "We may have lost your battery, but there is… one more option, to help stem the tide." Cassandra quirked an eyebrow at Galyan's admission before her features melded into one of shaken understanding.

"She is _here_?"

"No, we thought we'd send her on vacation to Antiva. Get some sun and fresh air…" Galyan quipped sardonically before his face grew tight, "Where _else_ would she be?"

Cassandra smacked his arm for his insolence, "And you _have_ them?

"Precautions were taken, Cassandra…"

"Hey!" Isabeau snapped at the bickering pair, banging her sword loudly against her shield. "Can we keep on the matter at hand, please?"

"Dragons," Cassandra offered as if adequate explanation, Isabeau left to gape with impatient chagrin before Cassandra quickly continued. "Avexis, she is... a mage we rescued a number of years ago. You remember the attack on the Ten Year Gathering?"

Isabeau let out an audible laugh in shock, "You're joking, you're here to tell me that all this time, the mages have had _fucking dragons_ at their command?!_"_

"It is hardly something we wanted to broadcast to our enemies prematurely," Galyan crossed his arms as he warily scanned the fringes of the battle around them, "With the Breach, they have become so active... Well, Avexis has... honed her skill."

"How _many_? Did Ser Cullen warn my Captains?!"

"Three, they are to be called upon so-"

Galyan's answer was abruptly interrupted, shrieking roars echoing through the night sky, the bellow so great the sounds of battle were muted in their wake. Heads, including Isabeau's own, whipped around across the battle as both sides turned to locate the source, the great barrier around Andoral's Reach disappearing as the beam rapidly pulled inwards before exploding violently outwards with a _BOOM_, shockwaves sent through the ground forces following the blast. Suddenly three great shadows appeared in the distance from The Blasted Hills, taking the undeniable shape of dragons as they swiftly approached the battle below. A _whoosh_ of air nearly knocked Isabeau off her feet as the larger of the two came to land several feet ahead of her position, the Inquisitor frozen in awe of the great beast as it unleashed hell upon their enemies.

"I have to get back!" Galyan shouted, "Avexis needs all the support she can get!"

Cassandra clasped his forearm tightly before the mage turned and sprinted away. She swung her sword as she nodded her head at Isabeau's side, seemingly amused by her Inquisitor's astonishment, "I've ridden that one."

"You... what?"

"Come!" Cassandra called as the two of them sprinted to the flank around the dragon, cutting back enemies as Isabeau gave the monster a wide berth, exhilarated as she watched the cataclysmic beasts break and scatter the enemy's lines with ease. Incredibly, Cassandra suddenly broke off from her side and nimbly leapt her way atop the dragon, running up its neck before launching herself from its head, her sword cleaving a man near in two as she came screaming down. Adrenaline left Isabeau feeling drugged on the fantastical turn the battle had taken, vaguely recalling the Pentaghast legacy.

Having lost herself in the grand rhythm of attacks, defenses and all manner of spells rejuvenating her declining stamina, Isabeau suddenly realized they had moved far from the Reach's gates. Her forces and the dragons had managed to push back their enemies until they were now eradicating what remained of the Templar's encampments. Isabeau bolstered the last of her energy and burst ahead of her force's lines, daring to run through the legs of the closest dragon before her as she lead the charge at the remnants of the Order's rear guard and command posts.

Finally, their enemy's horn sounded the retreat, white banners beginning to raise and replace those containing the flaming sword and seeking eye. Scores of men and women turned and ran, breaking formation as they scrambled to flee the dragon's fire, Isabeau amazed as the epic animals all came to cease their own attacks. She sheathed her own sword, locking her shield onto her back as she warily watched the retreating army, turning to survey the carnage around her. The way back to the Reach behind them was stained red with blood, great blackened scorches criss-crossing the earth from the dragon's fire and littered with corpses. Isabeau cringed at the sheer numbers of her own men's armor amongst the dead.

As her tired muscles began to ache in their respite, her companions slowly made their way to Isabeau's position, many of them as bruised and battered as she. Rhys kindly began to tend to her wounds, Isabeau involuntarily groaning as the relief spread through her. Varric hauled Bianca up against his shoulder, releasing a low whistle as he shook his head at the near-motionless dragons.

"Of all the things I've seen... "

Sera spat her indignation, "All this time they've had bloody dragons and _we_ had to bail_ them_ out of their shit?"

Cassandra sighed and swung her shoulder in adjustment, "It is... a long story."

Isabeau rounded on the Seeker, "You _knew_ and you didn't tell me?"

"I did not. To my knowledge, Avexis had released them when she returned to study at the Whitespire. I wasn't even aware of _Galyan's_ presence at the fortress, let alone the girl's. I suppose it was to be expected." She levelled her stern gaze with Isabeau's, "However, I do not have whatever answers you're looking for, Inquisitor."

"I suggest we make for the Reach, connect with Cullen and the Enchanters. The Templars and Seekers, if they are wise, should be preparing to treat now that we have defeated them," Leliana said as she held an arm out, Rhys' magic glowing upon it as he healed a particularly nasty gash.

Isabeau nodded in agreement, striding to one of her nearby Captain's to spread the order; commanding the bulk of her forces to hold their ground and remain at the ready. Podrick then appeared on her horse Vita, Isabeau reaching to squeeze his arm in appreciation for the squire's tireless efforts and aptly timed presence. They exchanged places as she mounted the palfry, not waiting for her other companions as she spurred the mare through the carnage that had been a road. Numerous platoons of her soldiers remained at the fortress' gate, Isabeau riding Vita through the sally-port before bursting into the main courtyard and striding for the command center Cullen had set up.

"Dragons!" she cried as she burst into the room, the doors slamming behind her as she charged for the table where Cullen stood surrounded with mages. She briefly considered the irony of the sight before her anger flared again.

"Madam Inquisitor..."

"_Don't_ you 'madam' me, First Enchanter," Isabeau chastised as she stopped across from Irving, her hands splaying across the table's map-covered surface. "You put _a thousand_ of my men, and my own person, at risk. I had my doubts when Enchanter Galyan first found me on the field, but to see them in action...? _Why_?" she commanded simply, her fist pounding the table top at her last syllable.

Irving immediately understood.

"It is a _finite_ resource, Inquisitor. Avexis is still but a girl and barely out of her apprenticeship, for her to assume full control of the beasts... it takes considerable preparation and assistance. She has always been our last resort," Irving explained with a patience that quelled Isabeau's fury. "When we learned of your... complications, we informed Ser Cullen accordingly."

Isabeau crossed her arms at her Marshall, "Oh yes, not everyone can put 'commanded dragons' in their memoirs. I'm happy for you, Ser Cullen."

The Knight scowled at her flippancy, "We were fighting a _losing battle_, Inquisitor. The minute your beam went up, I felt the effects myself; I knew it was not _viable_. I did what was necessary in order to save lives. To save yours."

Isabeau's exhaustion seemed to catch up with her as she slumped at his words, tiredly reaching to pull off her helm and set it upon the table's surface. She yanked out the leather twine that held back her hair, running her fingers through the sweaty and tangled locks in an effort to tame them before unceremoniously flinging herself onto a chair.

"How long can she control them?" she finally asked.

Irving coughed into his hand, clearing his throat, "Not much longer I am afraid. It is fortuitous our enemy's began to surrender when they did."

"And... then what? Do they get a bone and are content to sleep on a mat before the hearth?"

"Inquisitor..." Cullen cautiously began but Isabeau barrelled on.

"No, I'm seriously wondering at the logistics. They have managed to secretly _hide three Maker-damned dragons_, Cullen."

Irving sighed and began to pace, Galyan bursting then from one of the hall's side doors, coming to place a calming hand atop the elder mage's shoulders. He turned his determined gaze to Isabeau's.

"They leave at the disconnection, Inquisitor. They have never attacked us..." he began as he tiredly scratched at his beard, "We... are still determining the true extent of Avexis' abilities but she is the only mage in all of Thedas that commands this particular form of bestiary magic."

"You must understand, my lady, we had not known you enemy from foe at the time and our greatest opponent was at our very door step when you arrived," Irving sank into his own chair, his own exhaustion lining his face. "We always intended on defending ourselves by any means necessary. When Dagna revealed your... potential capabilities, I saw it as an opportunity for compromise."

"Inquisitor!"

Before Isabeau could reply, she turned to face Cassandra as the powerful woman made for the gathering, a rolled parchment in hand, "The Templars and Seekers have formally surrendered and request to treat with you at dawn."

The Inquisitor turned her head and looked out of one of the hall's great windows, realizing the hour was fast approaching, "Very well, Cassandra. We will give them time to bury their dead but if they do not arrive by first light, I will see them eradicated."

The dragon's roars erupted from the battlefield suddenly; the windows Isabeau stared out rattling loudly as the screams grew closer. Great flapping sounds of the beasts swooping wings echoed over head, Galyan nodding as they all listened as the beasts passed over and the sound rapidly diminished, "I must return to Avexis, she will be incredibly weakened. Cassandra, would you... like to join me?"

The Seeker looked to Isabeau expectantly.

"Of course, Cass. I will call for you should I require you," Isabeau consented before the pair nodded and strode from the hall. She turned and regarded Cullen, "Let us retire to your quarters, I wish to discuss things further with you."

"As you command Inquisitor," Cullen bowed politely to the assembled mages before he followed her out and to his chambers. Isabeau strode in and immediately went for the decanter of water, greedily chugging back from her goblet. With a great exhale of breath, she wiped the water, grime and blood at her chin before turning to Cullen.

"I'm sorry; I dishonored you with my impertinence. With an audience, no less," she began ruefully as she refilled her goblet with wine, bringing it to her lips to swallow deeply as she regarded Cullen over its rim.

"You did," Cullen assented plainly as he came to stand before her. "But... given the extraordinary circumstances, I believe I can forgive it this one time."

"It's just so bloody unbelievable."

Cullen's lips pursed as his gaze grew distant, "I have seen many things in my years, Isabeau... Impressive as Avexis' ability is, to be attacked by statues _I stood under_ _for years..._ I think that tops my, ah... list."

A repentant snort erupted from Isabeau as she nodded her head in acquiescence, "A more than fair point."

"The mage's strategy was not... unsound. Though I shudder to think how our own forces would have fared if on the opposing side," Cullen groaned as he rubbed at the back of his neck tiredly. "Inquisitor... Isabeau," he took her hands in his, "Tonight you have won yourself incredible allies your armies will benefit greatly from, regardless of my own... misgivings. Take solace in that, for now."

Isabeau let out a shuddering breath as she squeezed Cullen's hands in thanks, turning to the wash basin nearby to wipe the worst of the battle grime from her face. "I don't... feel victorious. Lambert is still missing and surely you don't think this encompassed their entire forces in Thedas?"

Cullen nodded gravely, "You are not incorrect. You have won a battle, not a war... but it _still_ remains a victory." He reached and poured a second goblet of wine for himself, knocking it against Isabeau's before he took a careful sip, "Let us hear what the Templars have to say. Admittedly I'm concerned we may not find a... balanced compromise."

"Yeah. Dragons: great bargaining chips."

As he held his arm out to escort Isabeau back to the main hall, she raised a hand haltingly by the door, "Wait... you mentioned, during the battle, you _felt_ my beam. You... haven't had Lyrium, have you?"

Cullen rubbed at the side of his forehead with a hand, "None, my lady, I assure you. Since that dwarf... explained her theory, I have been fostering one of my own. May we speak of it later, with Solas?"

"Of course, Cullen," Isabeau relented, patting his hand as they made their way back to their seats in the great hall, the sky outside the windows turning steadily pink as they patiently waited. The great double doors at the end of the hall soon split open as the first rays of light rained in, an envoy of what appeared clearly as high ranking officers of their enemy's ranks striding toward where the Inquisitor sat. Isabeau rose from her seat as they approached, coming to stand alone before the table where Cullen and the mages remained behind her.

A regally armored Templar and equally impressive Seeker knelt before Isabeau.

"You may rise," she commanded, the pair clattering in their armor as they stood. The Templar removed his helm to reveal a grizzled man with silver streaks in his thick brown hair and beard.

"Commander Gregoir," Cullen greeted evenly from Isabeau's back, the Inquisitor catching the slight bite behind the words.

"Ser Cullen," the Knight inclined his head respectfully before returning his gaze to Isabeau, "Inquisitor... I am here to submit our formal surrender and am prepared to hear your terms."

Isabeau straightened her back as she carefully regarded the man before her, "I am not entertaining the assumption this is my last campaign against you and your constituents, Commander. However, this day _is_ both mine _and _my allies; I would have us hear their terms first." Isabeau said gravely as she turned to face First Enchanter Irving, Rhys and Galyan at the elder mage's sides.

Irving rose and made his way to Isabeau's side, a sad and tired smile gracing his lips as he looked upon Ser Gregoir, "It has been... some time, old friend. A shame it all had to come to this..." he trailed off as he looked around the hall, a mixture of Mages, Templars and Seekers glaring back at him as he spoke. "Our consortium wishes to join in aiding the Inquisition... but not under Templar oppression. Andoral's Reach is yours, Inquisitor, if you but offer us autonomy henceforth."

Commander Gregoir shook his head in yielding before he looked back to Isabeau, "And what of my forces?"

"There _will_ be compromise, for us all," she began as she crossed her arms at the men before her, "You will have your autonomy, Irving... at the cost of a garrison of my men stationed to assist in both policing and protecting. This is to be the _Inquisition's_ fortress now; you and Ser Gregoir will work to defend it _together_."

Cries of outrage erupted from around the hall, Irving and Gregoir both sounding their protests.

"You would subject us to yet another form of the Circle?!"

"We will be _overrun_ with abominations before a month's end!"

"ENOUGH!" Isabeau screamed as she raised her fist, an explosion of Fade energy erupting from her hand to thunderclap across the ceiling of the hall, its power echoing against the walls and windows. The great room fell to a deafening silence, "Our world is _tearing itself apart_! I am _finished_ with your petty squabbling! You will _both_ accept my terms or as the Maker for my witness, I will leave you to the demons and you _will burn the longest_."

With each lethal word, an eerie green aurora encompassed Isabeau, flames of the green light licking about the edges of her body as her eyes bore into the men before her. As her heart pounded harder in her chest, the glow about her began to shift and change from green to a near-white blue, gasps collectively wringing out amongst the crowd as the Inquisitor was fully enveloped by the warm glow.

"Look at me!" she cried as she stretched out her arms entreatingly, "I am **all** that stands between you and the abyss. Only **I** can close the rifts... and if I do not gather enough forces to besiege the Breach, it will **consume**__us all. Everything you've ever loved, every freedom you've held dear or aspired for... will be wrenched from your pathetic clutches by the demon's grasps." Isabeau paused to allow her calm to return, the light around her beginning to fade as her heart slowed, "For thousands of years youhave fought a _common_ foe but always while at odds; today you **will** unite finally in your adversity and _protect_ _each other_!"


	13. Chapter 13

**Note: I want to thank everyone who reads or reviews… it is touching to see. **

/++++/

The air was so thick with tension Isabeau could have cut it with a knife. The Inquisition had remained at Andoral's Reach for nearly three weeks; Isabeau, Leliana and Cullen working tirelessly to smooth out the situation as much as possible. While Solas, Vivienne and Dorian had proven invaluable in championing Isabeau's cause to their fellow mages; Evangeline, Cassandra and Cullen had encountered a more difficult time in persuading their old comrades. The collection of Seekers and Templars now co-habiting the Reach had proven a trying bunch. Precious few had taken up the Inquisition's cause; the others either raising such turmoil they were rejected to the fortress' gates or, as with most, sullenly accepted their current stations and bided their time. Isabeau knew it was unreasonable to expect the situation to wrap itself up in a neat little ribbon... _But one can hope._

"I understand your concern, Ser Gregoir, but so long as you and your constituents remain you _will_ follow the guidelines Ser Cullen has provided," Isabeau said firmly as she rose from her place at the expansive table. "While regrettable, any Knights who refuse or rebel against their allotted dosages will be dealt with like the other upstarts."

Evangeline nodded her agreement at Isabeau's side while Gregoir's face contorted with distaste.

"I am their _Commander_, Inquisitor. If you want this little endeavor of yours to progress as smoothly as possible, you will not meddle in Templar affairs."

Isabeau sternly rounded on the Knight, "You no longer have your _own_ affairs, Ser Gregoir. I _own_ your _affairs_ and I say you will not continue using Lyrium as a form of discipline. If you feel you need to resort to such torment, then bring these troublesome knights to me and I will deal with them accordingly. I _will not_ have you sow more dissension via Lyrium induced madness."

Gregoir scoffed and waved a hand as if to refute Isabeau's orders, "The dosages _Ser_ Cullen has prescribed are insufficient, disciplinary actions aside, I have Knights who will not manage with these quantities."

"It is hardly the Inquisitor's fault that you have allowed your men to become so mangled and dependant," Cullen coolly interjected as his gaze met Gregoir's evenly. "The guidelines I have provided you are the Order's canonical prescription. It _must_ suffice if you have any care for your _men_, Commander."

After a gulp of wine from his goblet, Gregoir let out a dramatic scoff, "Do not speak to me about what is or isn't canonical, _boy._ What was the purpose of absorbing my forces if you're just going to eject the bloody lot of them?"

Isabeau sighed at his insolence, "I will not have this council reduced to rhetoric, Gregoir. Bring your men to heel and adhere to protocol… or I shall submit them to worse than the long walk to _wherever_ it is your superior's lurk."

With a great scowl upon his face, Commander Gregoir bowed and left their presence, the door he exited slamming loudly in his irate wake. Isabeau allowed herself a groan for her own frustration, sinking back into her seat to bury her face in her arms upon the table.

"Give it some time, Inquisitor," Cullen soothed, his large hand coming to rub pacifyingly between her shoulders.

"When faced with no alternatives, Gregoir and his men will submit," Evangeline gently agreed.

"We'll never make it back to Skyhold. This place will be the _death_ of me," Isabeau whined, raising her head to swallow down several gulps of her wine. "The dragons must have drugged me into a fit of fantastical inspiration; I was _mad_ to think this wise."

Cullen chuckled softly as he came to sit next to her, "There are yet men who still may come to our cause, Isabeau. If we can endure this ordeal and come away with capable Mages, as well as Templars and Seekers, the Inquisition will be better for it. As I said… you _must_ be patient and _give it time_."

"We cannot remain here forever," Isabeau retorted tiredly. "What happens when we leave? Was it all for nought if the Reach simply crumbles to anarchy and death in our absence?"

"It won't."

Isabeau perked her eyebrows at Cullen in doubt, "Oh yes, the _Mages_ are certainly content… but once the Templars and Seekers do not have their watch dogs?" She sighed deeply, "I envy your optimism."

Bringing her goblet to her lips again, Isabeau nodded at her nearby squire, Podrick. The young man tilted his head obediently and made for the great double doors, opening them to beckon in a legion of Mages. First Enchanter Irving made his way towards where Cullen and Isabeau sat, joining them at the expansive table as they patiently awaited Dorian, Solas and Vivienne. Once all had arrived and were assembled, a throng of various ranks and collections of Mages crowded the makeshift war room, eager to speak their concerns.

"A Seeker has forced himself upon one of my apprentices!"

"They're stealing from our Lyrium stores; we cannot sustain their needs as well as ours!"

"Summon the dragons and let us be done with the lot of them!"

For over two hours the council dragged on as such, Isabeau feeling incredibly grateful for her companion's abilities as they managed the onslaught. Vivienne proved to be the most proficient; her diplomacies incredibly well executed as she fielded the varying concerns with a grace and poise Isabeau down right envied.

Once only her companions, Irving, Rhys and Galyan remained, Isabeau chanced a sip from her goblet; the vigorous questioning and demands having taxed her greatly, Isabeau found herself with a great thirst. With a steadying breath she folded her hands upon the table before her, turning her head to look up and down its length at the collected faces.

"Is there anything of note that is fit to be privy amongst ourselves?"

"I… have something, Inquisitor." Cullen began as he rose and moved to stand behind Evangeline, "Madame de Brassard has proven more than committed and capable. I formally request pledging her to the Inquisiton and promoting her to a lord of the Reach; in addition to several of my generals, she will act as the law in our ensuing absence."

Isabeau immediately looked to First Enchanter Irving, quirking her eyebrow questioningly.

"A… wise and fair choice, Ser Cullen," Irving breathed before taking a sip of his goblet, "Evangeline has more than proven herself to both myself and my constituents. If you insist on establishing a hierarchy, I would welcome her at its head."

"Very well," Isabeau replied soberly as she rose from her seat, Evangeline doing the same before kneeling. Isabeau drew her bastard sword and gently set its blade upon the ex-templar's shoulder, "Evangeline de Brassard, you shall henceforth be Protector of the Reach. Govern evenly and ensure the Inquisition's cause continues to thrive under your order."

"You have my solemn oath, Inquisitor."

"Rise, Protector Evangeline and welcome… to the Inquisition."

Galyan and Rhys both heartily congratulated Evangeline as she returned to her seat at their sides, Irving casting an affectionate smile her way. Isabeau let out a deep breath and was about to continue their talks towards more trivial matters when Leliana burst through the doors at the opposite end of the hall.

"Inquisitor!" Isabeau stood to receive Leliana; the Sister pressing a tiny, rolled parchment into Isabeau's awaiting hands. "A raven arrived with word marked as urgent from Montilyet back at Skyhold," Leliana explained in her eerily soft voice, her hand momentarily clasping Isabeau's within it.

As Isabeau unrolled and read the tiny writing, suddenly her world turned black and she next awoke to a very concerned Cullen looming overhead, her body cradled in his arms as the others looked on uncertainly. Solas was hurriedly muttering spells, Isabeau's shaky hand rising to wipe at the blood upon the temple of her forehead.

"What…?"

"You passed out, Inquisitor. Your… head took a nasty hit against the table's edge before any of us could reach you," Cullen explained, Isabeau noting the tightness his features took on when deeply concerned.

The contents of the bird's letter came rushing back to her.

"My father… I… I have to go to Hercinia," she gushed, attempting to pull from Cullen's arms and immediately make haste for her departure. When the knight's hold tightened around her, Isabeau moaned in agonized worry as she continued, "He's ill. _Dying_… I _have_ to go…"

"You have burned the candle at each end for so long now, Inquisitor. May I strongly advise a few days rest before embarking for your home land?" Solas gravely counselled; his spells of rejuvenation having little effect on Isabeau's over-exhausted body.

"Isabeau… please," Cullen entreated, his embrace tightening at his words.

With a weary shake of her head, Isabeau consented as Cullen and Leliana hauled her to her feet, waves of dizziness plaguing her as she stood.

Cullen adjusted his hold on her, "May we adjourn until further notice?"

Irving nodded, "Of course, Ser Cullen. See that your Inquisitor is taken care of. We can meet and arrange further preparations as you require."

Isabeau vaguely processed their words before Cullen was ushering her out of the hall and towards their temporary quarters. Leliana had followed behind him, darting ahead to open the chamber doors before ushering she and Cullen within. As Cullen gently set Isabeau upon the goose-down mattress, she watched him turn to Leliana and speak in harried whispers as Isabeau curled into a tight ball.

_Father… Maker, please not now…_

With a terse nod of her head, Leliana departed, Isabeau catching her sad glance before the spymaster disappeared through the door's threshold. Cullen closed the door behind her and ran a hand through his blond tresses before coming to sink upon the bed at Isabeau's side, his hands gently rubbing her ribs as she clutched the coverlets to her face.

"We will depart as soon as possible, Isabeau," he began softly, his hand running up her ribs to affectionately cup her face. "Kindly heed Solas' advice and for now, _rest_. The others and myself shall make the appropriate arrangements."

"Cullen… if… if I do not make it in time…" Isabeau croaked brokenly, memories of her father intensely springing to the forefront of her mind. _My greatest Teacher and Champion… Andraste, I _beg you _to see me to his side before he is gone from this world._

A large hand encased hers and squeezed it encouragingly, "We _will_ depart as swiftly as possible, Isabeau. However, you'd be doing your father a disservice in showing up so… fatigued. Let us ensure he is met with the Isabeau he remembers, yes?"

Isabeau squeezed her eyes tight and miserably nodded her consent before Cullen stretched out at her side, his face inches from her as he affectionately rubbed his nose against hers. She opened her eyes, meeting her knight's concerned gaze as she reached and wrapped her arms around his middle, the two shimmying tight against each other as Cullen remained the cliff she clung to in her storms. As his hands consolingly petted her hair, his lips planting soft kisses under her eyes, Isabeau allowed herself the brief respite from her torment.

"Come, let us undress and get the rest we need," Cullen gently urged as he softly tugged her to an upright position. Tender, knowing hands worked off the various layers of her armor and under clothes; Cullen removing his own once done with Isabeau, the pair crawling under the coverlets together shortly after.

Rain began to pelt against the windows outside, the soft pattering upon the glass mingling with Cullen's heartbeat beneath her ear, Isabeau closing her eyes as she attempted to let the sound lead her to blessed sleep. Behind her vision however, dragon fire and scorched, bloodied bodies filled her mind's eye. Ser Karras' gurgling death rattle came back as if she was returned to his grasp; his gory and decimated face somehow still leering at her with each of his blows, destroying more of her spirit as she watched her soul join the blood that cascaded from her body. The remnants of her ruin came to end at her father's feet, his desolate gaze boring into her bleeding eyes as Isabeau looked on in horror.

Her eyes suddenly shooting open, Isabeau leapt up from Cullen's embrace, panting heavily.

"I can't!" She croaked desperately as her arms came to protectively wrap around herself, beginning to rock back and forth. A shaky hand rose to cup her mutilated ear as more of the pervasive, anxiety-riddled thoughts battered at her weakened psyche. Her beloved father then rose to the forefront of her worries, Isabeau crying out in anguish as she began to fret over him, too.

As she felt herself falling deeper into the abyss, she was pulled back when Cullen's arms came to wrap around her from behind. He had sat up behind her; the knight's thick muscles enveloping Isabeau, gently pulling her back closer against his stomach until they had nearly melded as one. Kind whispers of love and hope from Cullen caressed her ears, Isabeau relaxing at the sound of his beautifully crisp Fereldish accent.

A small, timid smile tugged at her lips as Cullen gently fell back against the mattress, Isabeau tumbling with him in his arms. She readjusted to lie at his side, her legs tangling amongst his as she idly drifted her fingertips across his chest's skin, planting soft, tender kisses in their wake. Shimmying down lower, Cullen brought his face to hers, his fingers running through the hair at the back of her head as he palmed her and pulled her lips towards his. With a steadying breath, Isabeau welcomed his affections, their kisses growing more passionate as they each tugged the other's small clothes away.

Positioning himself atop Isabeau, Cullen eased himself between her legs, the couple soundlessly mouthing their bliss at the connection as he buried himself in her warmth to the hilt. Isabeau bent her knee and rubbed her thigh against his as he slowly grinded into her; soft, gasping moans coaxed from between her lips, Cullen leaned down to muffle her mewling with his own mouth. As her release grew within her, Isabeau clung to Cullen more desperately, whispering her urgency as her knight deepened his thrusts and increased his pace. When Isabeau closed her eyes as bliss wracked her body, she felt her muscles clenching around Cullen's cock, a stifled grunt heralding the templar's own blessed end.

As they collected themselves in each other's arms, Isabeau gently ran her fingers through Cullen's thick hair; the weight of her worries blessedly lifted for the interim in the aftermath of their passions.

"To think… for so long, I denied myself this."

Isabeau propped herself up on an elbow, resting her head in her hand as she considered Cullen's declaration, "How… long, exactly?"

Cullen uncharacteristically smirked, "Too long."

At Isabeau's unsatisfied glare, he relented with a deep sigh, "Do… you remember when Leliana first joined us? We were preparing to assist Bann Teagan in his efforts to retake Redcliffe…?"

"I remember Leliana being incredibly _pissed_ when I found her in the castles' ruins, but yes."

"The night before you and Dorian set out; we were agonizing over our troop movements together. The Mage's and Templar's presence was complicating our efforts and I had remained awake deep into the night in an attempt to find a compromise," he explained softly, his eyes distant as Isabeau entwined her fingers with his. "You… startled me with your arrival," he let out a soft chuckle, "Even though, by then, our shared late nights had become… quite common."

A smile crept across Isabeau's face as she recalled the youth of their rapport, "Ah, yes. You tried ushering me back to bed."

"With good reason," He replied coyly before bringing her hand to his lips, brushing her knuckles gently across them as he continued. "I-it… it hit me quite suddenly as we labored into the night over that map. To see someone so… earnestly dedicated; so genuinely _concerned_ for the _people_ as much as the _battle_… it is a rarity I do not think you are aware of."

Memories of their battle through Redcliffe's lands sprung back to mind, Isabeau feeling a deep sadness over the civilians she had not managed to spare in that endeavor.

"I could have done more… _saved_ more."

Cullen suddenly sat up; his arm coming to support his weight at Isabeau's side as the other gently slid a hand down her cheek, "Exactly. You _mourn_ every loss, whether it is your _own_ or a stranger's. There is a capacity for empathy within you that is a blessed thing to see, Isabeau. I… do not think I would have committed to the Inquisition's cause so fiercely were it not for that very ability of yours. You bring _humanism_ to our efforts and I, like the others, have come to appreciate its importance over all else."

Isabeau's heart swelled with affection for the Templar above her, sitting up to passionately crush her lips to his as they fell back in tight embrace.

"You continue to honor _and_ humble me, Ser Cullen," she breathed, tightening her arms around him as they lay amongst the coverlets.

"You will see your father again, Isabeau. By my honor, I will have him know of the woman you have become… and the hope you carry with each step you take."


	14. Chapter 14

Isabeau was growing increasingly fidgety, Cullen's attempts at distracting her with the scenery outside the carriage failing miserably. _She's likely seen it a thousand times, you git._

Due to the great distance the Inquisition's party had to trek, a carriage and light cavalry guard had been arranged by Cullen, his and Isabeau's mounts currently lead behind the coach. Between the Civil War and pockets of Templars and Mages that remained embattled, they had been forced to travel the Imperial Highway south and then follow the sparse roads along the sea east; their party having cleared the Vinmark Mountains the previous evening. After catching some rest in Ostwick and then Markham, the procession was now approaching the lands of Hercinia.

Beautiful coastline of brilliant turquoise waters painted the windows to the right of the cabin; Cullen was so accustom to the dank waters of the Wounded Coast and Kirkwall Bay, he appreciated the striking view. Admittedly, he was as wary of their surroundings as he was impressed; Hercinia was as beautiful as it was deadly, merciless raiders plaguing its otherwise pristine coastline.

In addition to himself, several others of their companions had made the trip for Isabeau's sake. The reminder of their forces at Andoral's Reach had been split in half; one to garrison and the other following Cullen's party half-way before departing for Skyhold. While the situation at the Reach was far from peaceful, Cullen had to trust in Evangeline and his Generals. Though it had not been the figures Cullen had hoped for, they needed the bulk of their forces returned to Skyhold in order to train and integrate the Seekers, Templars and Mages that_ had_ enlisted. In the week Isabeau had permitted for her recovery and their preparations, only two hundred assorted assets were added to the Inquisition's ranks.

_It's not enough. _

Cullen hoped in time more would come, his enforcement of the Templar's Lyrium regulation being left in Rhys' and Evangeline's capable hands. He had to believe that, given time to even out, more of the Knight's would come around to the Inquisition's cause. If the abuse of the substance by their superiors was as persistent as he feared, perhaps more men like him would see the maltreatment for what it was. Cullen still had a hard time wrestling with his moral compass over his amputation from the Order, though it had dissipated some since the Inquisition really seemed to grab a foothold. He _had_ to believe he was doing the right thing; there was terrific suffering on _all_ sides, though Cullen was still wary of examining his _true_ feelings on Mage freedom. Shared yet differently executed oppression was still oppression; to find a sense of empathy with the mages in that concept frightened him. Cullen was still ashamed to face how far the Templar Order had fallen.

"Charming?"

Cullen felt a bit stupid for even turning his head at Varric's voice, cursing himself every time he responded to the exasperating epithet. The dwarf was holding out a slice of apple, extended out on the tip of his dagger, as he waved it in front of Cullen. With thanks, Cullen took it and bit off half, chewing as he returned to brood at the sea.

"You know, this trips been awfully fun with you two rays of sunshine."

"Varric," Isabeau warned tiredly.

"What? Look Inks, I know you're worried but there were no birds in Kirkwall, Ostwick or Markham. Like you said, your mother would have sent word," Varric shrugged, Cullen cringing at their companion's attempts to placate the Inquisitor.

Isabeau yanked her head out of the hand she'd cradled it in against the glass, gaping at Varric in mild indignation. "Varric, there are _hours_... _days worth _of travel between those cities. I could have missed them," she tugged herself into a tighter ball, her forehead pressed back to the carriages window. "For once allow me to be both worried and sad. I still _feel_ like a person, you know."

With a somber nod of assent, Cullen was relieved to see the dwarf relent. "Shit, I'm sorry, Trevelyan. There's just been a lot of crap lately and... I'm trying to be hopeful here." Varric's face grew soft as his hands anxiously preened at Bianca in his lap.

Her face softened as she sat back up, reaching to squeeze Varric's hand assuredly. "No harm done, friend. Besides, Bianca would never forgive me if I stifled _her_ sunshine." Isabeau smiled kindly and then quickly plucked the remainder of the apple from Varric's lap, winking at him as she bit into it.

Solas let out a snort at Cullen's side, though when he turned to look at the elf, the man was feigning sleep. He nudged his elbow amiably into the mage's side.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of Solas' lips, "You've found me out."

"Fiend."

"Ass."

Cullen leaned back with a soft sniff at their banter, his own lips tweaking slightly. Though the tension between them had been tightly wound prior to and during the battle for the Reach, in its aftermath Cullen had given in to his conscience, seeking Solas' quarters shortly after Isabeau's collapse.

_"Come in."_

_ With a soft clearing of his throat, Cullen pushed open the door to Solas' chamber in the west wing of the Reach's apartments. The quill in Solas' hand went still as he carefully set it upon the parchment, folding his hands as he somberly gazed at Cullen._

_ "Ser Cullen. Kindly have a seat," Solas rose and made his way to a small table cluttered with a kettle and cups. "Would you care for some tea?"_

_ "Please."_

_ The mage nodded and prepared their drinks, returning to place the cup in Cullen's open hand before sitting back behind his desk. The pair stared at each other as they each took measured sips, Solas' eyebrows suddenly perking. _

_ "You and I are a very stark contrast, Ser Cullen; we have walked very different lives. It is something I think we need to reconcile."_

_ "And how would you propose we do so?"_

_ Tilting his head as he considered him, Solas sighed before explaining. "That way of living... of existing, has radically changed with the Inquisition," he stood and began to pace behind the desk. "What do we all have in common? We see a world suffering, a world where everything that is miserable and ugly infests the atmosphere, literally. What separates _our_ plight from all the other atrocities raping Thedas right now?"_

_ Cullen swallowed deeply as he leaned back further in his chair, turning his head to stare at the floor as he chewed on Solas' question. "A cause."_

_ "The other's have causes, perceived or otherwise. What makes us _different_?"_

_ A sudden clarity jolted Cullen, "The people. We are not _choosing_ anything; we're saving everyone equally."_

_ Solas nodded, "Precisely. We are not culling select groups. Closing the Breach could unite and save everyone. Quinari, Elf, Human... no matter the denomination." The elf pulled his chair from behind his desk to sit closer to Cullen, the knight somewhat taken aback by the action. Solas crossed his legs in front of him, "There's truly been... no better reason to rebuild burnt bridges."_

_ "It is... a fortuitous time, I agree," Cullen began as he folded his arms before him. "I won't do our acquaintance injustice and pretend you don't know a great deal about me, Fade Walker. You willingly assisted me during a... greatly difficult time in my life. For my disrespect of your care, I apologize for my... temper, the other day."_

_ "It was... something to be temperamental about, Ser. In a bid for good terms, I would have you know that you and I, in some ways, are not _so _different. As our Inquisitor rightly pointed out, we have been tormented by the same enemy for too long. It is... easy to slip into old habits in duress, though." Solas acquiesced quietly, their eyes meeting before both gave a slight nod at the other. _

Since finding a place in the middle, Cullen had felt himself notably more relaxed around the mage; less strife plaguing him for his appreciation of the elf's on-going care for Isabeau. For the first three days Cullen spent making preparations with the others, Solas had placed Isabeau in a carefully monitored coma, her refreshment upon waking palpable. In their remaining days at the fortress, Solas had policed Isabeau, only allowing the Inquisitor to assist in the mobilization efforts after sufficient rest and food.

"We're not far from the city," Isabeau suddenly announced, sitting up straighter as shacks and various forms of housing began to pop up alongside the road. Soon after, the uneven, rocky sea road turned to smooth, white cobble stones, their convoy crossing a magnificently huge bridge that arched over the ocean below. The white marble of the bridge, and the remainder of the city's architecture, contrasted sharply with the blue of the skies and sea. Cullen pulled his eyes away from the sights of the passing city center to watch Isabeau, a soft but sad smile upon her face as her hand gently rested at her throat. She rocked listlessly with the carriage, her eyes occasionally widening at certain establishments they passed.

As they climbed a steep hill dotted with estates of various sizes and stunning horticulture, Cullen couldn't stifle his gulp of nervousness as they approached the gates to the Trevelyan Villa. He had always known Isabeau was a noble but in the Inquisition, her highborn status was overshadowed by her role as Inquisitor. Here, as they bounced up a long drive lined with various flowers, Cullen found himself decidedly uncomfortable with facing the proverbial truth. Templars were not usually permitted to marry, and even if he wasn't sure he could still call himself one, his birth would be the second toll of the bell.

_Hang on..._

Cullen frowned at himself, hushing his rambling thoughts as he fought his embarrassment at his own musings. Why he had bolted immediately to a topic he was in no way prepared to face, Cullen couldn't say. He filed the thoughts away and took a steadying breath as the carriage came to a slow stop. Clutching the door handle, Cullen jumped out and turned to assist Isabeau as she stepped down onto the cobbles, thanking him as she turned and faced the approaching group. A deep longing lined her features briefly before she broke into a smile, her arms going wide as she walked right into an older woman's embrace.

"Oh my darling girl," the lady wetly kissed Isabeau's cheek, pulling back in horror as she clutched at the Inquisitors head, gently tugging it aside to look closely at the scarred and ruined ear. "What in Andraste's name happened to your ear?"

"Battle scars, mum," Isabeau quipped but Cullen caught the bitter undertones. She then turned and introduced her companions to her mother, Katlein; each replying with their own polite greetings. When Isabeau came to Cullen, he felt her mother's eyes look him up and down, a slight nod of approval sending odd shocks through Cullen's abdomen. As one, the group made its way into the open and airy halls of the Villa, Cullen marvelling at the open concept chambers dotted with plant filled atriums and stunning sea vistas. After showing everyone to their allotted quarters, Cullen took a minute to appreciate his own bedchamber before leaving Isabeau to her mother. He made his way back to the carriage and assorted carts, assisting the servants with setting up their belongings and offices. Once complete and Isabeau was still yet to return, Cullen had joined Varric and Solas on a walk through the grounds, the three men finding a path that lead down the cliffs to the beach below. Filing its location away, they returned to the Villa after sometime, finding Isabeau and her mother chatting in the main atrium.

"Surely you are all very hungry after your trip. A feast will be served shortly in honor of your arrival. Should you have any needs, please do not hesitate to ask of our servants," Katlein implored warmly, beckoning them to join she and Isabeau in wine and the comfort of the plush settees.

"Your hospitality is more than sufficient, Lady Trevelyan," Cullen briefly felt odd saying her title after its prolonged use with Isabeau, "May... I inquire of your husband's health?"

Katlein's head dipped slightly in sorrow, "The Maker is generous to have sent you so swiftly, but, as I have explained to Isabeau, he is not long for this world I'm afraid."

"My sincerest apologies, my lady; I was too bold."

"Not at all, Ser Cullen; it is the very reason for your arrival. You have my gratitude for not only ensuring my daughter arrived safely, but arrived to say her goodbyes."

Isabeau stood then and poured herself a rose coloured wine from a nearby glass decanter, the intricately etched glass glinting in the setting sunlight that permeated the open rooms. A part of Cullen ached as he processed her features, thanking the Maker for allowing the mercy of their well-timed arrival. Their eyes met as she slowly sipped at her wine, Cullen watching her visibly sigh before she turned her gaze back out to the ocean.

"Shall we go to the dining hall?"

"Yes, Lady Trevelyan. Some nourishment would be most welcome," Solas said as he stood, Varric and him following Katlein into another room as Cullen rose to stand beside Isabeau.

"It's... not perfect, but it's better than what you feared." He soothed gently as he gave the room a quick glance, his hands coming to slowly rub her arms once assured in their privacy. Isabeau hugged herself in turn, her arms wrapping around her as her hands came to clasp Cullen's.

"I know it is true... I just wish it was _different_," She said sadly before squeezing Cullen's hands and pulling away from his embrace. "I'm going to have Solas see him but unless he has a miracle, the physician is not optimistic dad'll survive the week."

"I'm... so sorry."

Isabeau rubbed the back of her neck as exhaustion again lined her features, "It is a sad thing, but it is what it is. The honor of lighting his pyre was always to be mine... I take solace in being here to do it."

With that she turned and strode from the room, leaving Cullen to gnaw on her melancholy for a few minutes longer before he, too, made his way for the dining hall. After sitting down and filling his trencher, Cullen found some succor in watching Isabeau reunited with family and old friends. Katlein had an assortment of people staying with her on the massive Villa, many of them now joining in the feast while catching up with their long lost Lady. Some of the sadness managed to lift from Isabeau's face as she chatted amiably. One woman, with what Cullen felt was too much make up, tittered next to the Inquisitor now.

"The last we heard from you, you were en route to that dreadful summit in Ferelden. You can understand our... shock and relief at your safety."

"I was lucky when many were not, Lady Sersteen."

Cullen watched Isabeau's grip tighten around her goblet, nearly biting his tongue as he fought the urge to steer the conversation another route, Lady Sersteen continuing unabashedly.

"This dreadful Inquisition business of yours, surely life would have been much simpler had you been married to a nice Hercinian boy, no?" The young woman paused as she tapped her folded fan to her lips, "You know, it has been said in some circles Sebastian Vael remains a bachelor and grows in might. Starkhaven may truly be his again soon."

Isabeau suddenly cleared her throat, gently patting at her lips with her napkin before elegantly rising from her seat, "Pardon me, Lady Sersteen, but I suddenly am feeling quite ill; you'll all have to excuse me."

He watched as she disappeared deeper into the Villa, his eyes finding Katlein's as the woman pressed her forehead into her hands. The Lady Sersteen gave a great huff as she flipped her fan out, waving it at herself rapidly. The rest of the meal continued in a thick, uncomfortable silence; even Varric subdued as he picked at his food. When the others all made to excuse themselves, Cullen took his opportunity and went in search of Isabeau's chambers. The villa was vast and while he had become acquainted with the guest apartments, he tread less confidently as he meandered through the family's private apartments.

After thirty minutes of awkwardly hesitating outside doors in the hopes of hearing Isabeau within, Cullen had given up and made his way back to his own chambers. The sun had set, the hearth and various candles having been lit by servants prior to Cullen's arrival. Gingerly, he climbed up to sit on the sill of his window, only pausing in his sea gazing to reach down and slide his boots off his feet. Finally resigning himself to not seeing Isabeau again until the morn, Cullen pulled off the rest of his clothes and climbed into bed, a part of him hoping she would sneak into his chambers. _Yes, in the dead of the night, under her _dying_ father's roof. What are you, a horny toad?_

Well, Cullen was one of those things and while far from _innocent_, it had been a great deal of time since he'd had a woman before Isabeau. His concern for her emotional state aside, their intimacy had become something he very much _appreciated_. Cities like Kirkwall that garrisoned a Templar population always had a booming brothel business; though Templar's were usually expected to remain celibate, recruits had the freedom to explore prior to their vigil. The Blooming Rose had been a prime example of that symbiotic relationship, Cullen resisting the temptation where his colleagues could not. It wasn't that he was a prude or, as he'd been teased in the past, a virgin; Cullen had been a recruit once, too. That need had been sated however, and the current of his life had steadily roughened, Cullen finding little desire to quench the need under the burden of his trauma and recovery. The desire was even less evident during his trials in Kirkwall.

Since having Isabeau though, a fire had been set alight within Cullen. He chuckled to himself as he recalled her apt description of 'awakened the beast', the blessed relief and contentment that followed their intimacies as enticing to the ex-templar as the acts themselves. Since bonding with Isabeau, he had noticed his broken sleeping steadily improve, less plagued by waking dreams or terrors when lying next to her. It went without saying that he had developed a connection that ran deeper than pure lust, but as Cullen laid there in the lonely bed, he found his hand gripping himself as memories of Isabeau's ministrations returned to him. He had been no older than seventeen when his fellow recruits and he had ventured to The Pearl in Denerim, the many years in between dotted occasionally with an overwhelming need... a need Cullen usually handled the very way he currently was.

With a groan he tilted his head back against the pillow, pumping slowly as he tried his best to lock away his worries and focus on Isabeau tight and wet around him. Just as he finally felt himself slipping into the sensation, there was a creak from somewhere in his quarters, his hand immediately ripped away to prop him up in the bed.

Isabeau tip toed over to him, a finger to her lips as she crawled into the bed next to him, Cullen feeling his face redden as his hard on rubbed against her thigh. With a slight sniff of amusement, Isabeau's hand slid between them to rub him as she nuzzled close.

"H-how?" Cullen croaked, his eyes closing at the feel of her hand.

"I was _born_ here; was a _teenager_ here... I'm the master of sneaking around this place," she purred, her teeth coming to bite at Cullen's ear lobe. He wanted to lose himself to their lust but he couldn't completely stifle the nagging voice at the back of his head; her tenacious affections, while not unwelcome, were uncharacteristic of her temperament lately.

"Are you... feeling alright?"

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Maker, no," Cullen breathed as she squeezed him, reaching to cup Isabeau's jaw in his palm. "I just want to make sure you... are not still too distressed."

Isabeau paused in her efforts to smile teasingly at him, "Cullen, my darling... this _is_ me dealing with that stress. Now, be a dove and kindly shut up while I oggle your muscles and cock."

With a heat exploding across his face, Cullen acquiesced and laid back, entwining his fingers behind his head as Isabeau went to work on him. She ran her finger nails softly up his stretched torso and chest, leaning down to plant kisses across his prominent pectoral muscles before she straddled him, sliding further down his body as she kissed a trail lower and lower. Cullen's eyes shot open as her lips caressed beyond his lower abdomen, not able to speak once he felt her lips around him. A guttural groan exploded him his lips as she deepened her connection, Isabeau pausing to wickedly shush him before she returned to her efforts. In short work, Cullen was reduced to a panting mess as he whispered frantic curses and words of adoration, his capitulation explosive and incredibly intimate as Isabeau devoured him fully.

Wiping at her mouth, she crawled up his body to lay flat against him, Cullen still catching his breath as he wrapped his arms around her. When he moved to return her passions in kind, Isabeau had shaken her head, pulling herself tighter against him as she sighed.

"I am alright, Cullen," she whispered as she planted a soft kiss against the stubble of his cheek. "It pleases me to have pleased you, but I truly cannot linger for the night." Isabeau brought her lips to his and kissed him deeply before she stood, squeezing his hand as they said their goodnights, before turning and disappearing through the door.

Letting out a deep breath, Cullen ran his fingers through his hair, a guilty prayer to the Maker lingering at the fringes of his mind as he considered their wickedness. Having a daughter that was pure military probably did not fill Lord Trevelyan with any illusions, but Cullen still felt a nagging sense of guilt over his relations with her under the Lord's roof. Again, his mind maddeningly began to think of marriage, the socially hopeless aspects embattled against Isabeau's perceived freedom as Inquisitor. Being a Knight used to stand for something, but given current events, Cullen wasn't so confident it remained a position befit a lady's husband. At the least, Isabeau's involvement with the Inquisition offered the paramours the opportunity, one Cullen planned on taking advantage of for as long as he could.

Thinking of that advantage, Cullen fell back into the memory of Isabeau's lips around him, his hand guiltily returning to his growing hardness as he scoffed at himself.

_Maker, but you _have _become a beast._


	15. Chapter 15

**Note: ... For the HORDE...err... CULLENITES! 3 3**

/+++/

Lord Trevelyan died on a windy and cool afternoon, Isabeau having silently pressed his hand against her cheek as the life in her father slipped away like the tides outside the chamber's window. His final Will and Testament had been dictated through pained whispers, Isabeau and he signing it, officiating her ascension as head of the House Trevelyan.

In the few days since, Katlein and Isabeau had swallowed their grief, too consumed with various funeral arrangements; announcements and invitations dominating most of their efforts. Isabeau had been grateful of Cullen's presence, his assistance with the process having lessened their load. As they had worked their way down Lady Trevelyan's expansive list, a particular name had given Isabeau pause; a quick prayer sent to the Maker as she wickedly hoped the raven would be shot down before its delivery could be completed.

Unfortunately for Isabeau, the invitation _had _arrived. As she stood watching the last bit of fuel placed in her father's ship pyre, her eyes briefly caught Sebastian Vael's; Isabeau ashamed as she ripped her gaze away from his. There was a sadness in his cerulean blue orbs that touched Isabeau in an unwelcomed way, memories of their time together returning with an awkward force. Her grip tightened on the bow she held in front of her, willing her aim to remain true through the nerves, as she solemnly stepped towards the large brazier.

With a great but gentle shove, various men of loyalty to House Trevelyan pushed the funeral boat into the current. Isabeau took a deep breath, searching the crowd of attendees for Cullen's face as she held her arrow into the flames. At the nod of Cullen's head, Isabeau pulled back and stepped towards the edge of the dais she stood upon, nimbly pulling back the bow string as she waited on the wind to still. The second it did, her inflamed arrow swiftly released, arching high in the air before coming down upon the edge of her father's pyre. The flames began to lick higher, Isabeau's arm slowly lowering the bow to her side as she stood back and watched her father turn to ash on the sea.

"Come, treasure... Let us manage the guests," Katlein gently soothed as she came up beside Isabeau, her hands gently squeezing her daughter's arms. The Inquisitor held her gaze upon the now roaring flames before sighing, turning to follow her mother; the pair at the head of the procession as the large gathering made its way into the Villa's largest atrium. As she made the grueling rounds visiting and thanking the various and many guests, Isabeau finally grabbed a goblet of wine and made her way over to her companions. Solas gave an encouraging squeeze of her shoulder as she came up beside him, Varric offering his own condolences as Cullen smiled at her sadly.

"I'm alright... just need to get through _this_," she assured them, absently waving at the throng of people crowding the atrium. A flash of pearly white armor caught her eye as it gleamed through the bodies of the gathering, Isabeau swallowing her wine in several deep gulps as Sebastian Vael made his way over to her, shaking his head in bewilderment as his eyes found Cullen and Varric at her side.

"Knight-Commander Cullen and Varric Tethras...? You keep an eclectic collection of companions, Lady Trevelyan," he said as he nodded at the other men in greeting, turning to grasp Isabeau's hand to plant a soft kiss on her knuckles. "You also have my deepest condolences, my lady. Your father was a good man and always a true friend to Starkhaven."

With a deep swallow, Isabeau vaguely acknowledged Cullen fidget as she bowed gracefully to the Prince before her. "You are... very kind to say so, Sebastian." She straightened up, cocking one hip to the side as she shifted her weight to one leg, "I did not think you would be available to attend. How fares your siege of Starkhaven?"

"The city is well fortified, but my forces have punched through the outer wall; I anticipate being behind the inner walls within a fortnight."

Isabeau awkwardly cleared her throat as she rocked on the balls of her feet, "Well, I bid you good luck in that endeavor, My Lord." She inwardly groaned at the forced conversation, trying to not outwardly trip over her words and thoughts. _Just play the Game... _

Sebastian smiled ruefully as he finished another sip of his wine, "Lady Trevelyan, I respect you are grieving but I had hoped we would have a chance to speak... more privately. I am afraid I am guilty of harboring ulterior motives behind my condolences."

_And boom goes the gaatlok._

"If it is assistance from the Inquisition, I am _afraid_ you are speaking to the wrong person," Isabeau reached behind and gestured Cullen forward, the knight rubbing at the back of his neck before straightening to attention at her side. "Ser Cullen is the Marshall of my forces. If you wish to speak of... _aide_ in your engagements, he is fit to discuss any troop allocations."

Extending his hand, Sebastian surprised Isabeau as he reached to clasp Cullen's in his, shaking it respectfully, "While I do not doubt the Commander capable, it is not the Inquisition I seek aide from." He turned and levelled his gaze evenly with Isabeau's, "It is the Trevelyan's of Hercinia of which I seek. May we?" he gestured towards a set of stairs, the Villa's sprawling gardens extending beyond the archway of the terrace.

Shooting a desperate glare at Cullen, Isabeau solemnly nodded as she took Sebastian's extended arm, letting him lead her out onto the balcony and down its many stairs to the fountain below. The pair walked slowly and silently, Isabeau's chest aching as she tried to distract herself with the sight of the setting sun, its rays bursting through the gaps of leaves on the trees around them. When Sebastian slowed and came to a stop before a marble bench, he gently assisted her in sitting down, Isabeau cursing his chivalry; her temper steadily rising the longer she was in the man's presence.

"Forgive my candor, but I would ask you speak quickly. This has been... a long and difficult day for me," she breathed, a hand rising to nervously rest at her throat. Isabeau was too emotionally exhausted to invest the fortitude required in dealing with her ex-lover, the agony of loss and ever present weight of her existence precariously perched upon the brink. The last month had been one long nightmare for Isabeau; effects of her trials at Andoral's Reach still plaguing her with visions of torture, death and dragon fire. There was blessed little comfort Isabeau could find in her last days with her father, his death rattling her to the core as she increasingly felt smaller and smaller in the face of her enterprise.

"Isabeau..."

"_Lady _Trevelyan," she quickly corrected.

Sebastian looked pained as he swallowed his informality and sat next to her, "I thought I had sent you to your death, _my lady_. I have... regretted what happened between us. And my rash decisions."

Isabeau stood suddenly to pace before him, "No, I forbid this. Speak to me of your war, of demons and mages, of the _cataclysm_ that befalls Thedas..." She arched her arms as she gestured to the sky, turning then to stare at him imploringly, "But of _that_ we shall not speak."

"I was a fool, Isabeau. In my shame and impulsiveness I inevitably cursed you to carry the burden of the Inquisition," Sebastian shot up himself, quickly striding to clasp her hands in his. "I have heard the reports and I have ached at them all, I dishonored you and sent you to your... mutilation," he breathed as he raised her marked hand, staring at it in pained curiosity.

With a resounding _SMACK_ Isabeau ripped her hands away and slapped the stunned man, "You were warned. I will not reward you with a relieved conscience, Sebastian. You do not get to speak of my _mutilation_, as you call it; if you deign to seek only this route of discussion, it ends here."

She watched as he swallowed thickly, Sebastian's eyes and nostrils flaring as he chewed at the inside of his cheek. Isabeau watched as the fiery man clearly collected his temper, the Inquisitor bracing in preparation of the incoming onslaught. To her surprise, Sebastian seemed to shrink, a long and deep sigh escaping his lips as he absently rubbed at his reddening cheek.

"I _deigned_ to deliver the _apolog_y the lady deserves. I do not deny I was a cad," he said slowly as he turned to face her again. "You have every right to be furious with me; my actions were less than honorable. I've always known you were stubborn but I come to you with honest intentions, Isabeau; let us not reduce this to dramatics and abuse."

Something snapped and broke inside Isabeau, discombobulating her center as she tried to stifle her chagrin at Sebastian's words. Isabeau may be a dangerous person but she was never vicious, an infuriating sense of shame welling in the pit of her stomach as she chewed on her regret for hitting the tormented Prince. Sinking back onto the bench, Isabeau buried her face in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut as she fought to stem the tide of emotions battering at the fringes of her composure.

"For striking you... I am sorry, Sebastian," she sighed as she looked up at him through the strands of her hair. "For my _anger_ at your audacity, I cannot say the same."

Sebastian came to kneel before her, reaching for her hands again before he hesitated, awkwardly pulling them back, "I... accept both. I understand you are under a great amount of duress, my lady... and I do not add to it casually." He cautiously raised a hand to tuck several strands of her ashen hair behind her ear, frowning worriedly as he came to discover the maimed appendage, "You have never been far from my thoughts, not since I sent you away. With... the loss of your father, I could not miss the opportunity to see you again."

Isabeau's patience was at an end, "What... do you _want_, Sebastian?"

His hand cupped the side of her head as he dared to inch his face closer to hers, "A second chance... and a consolidation of our stations."

With a gasp Isabeau yanked back, cocking an eyebrow incredulously as she gaped at Sebastian's stony features. "You... are you _proposing_?!" Nearly falling off the back of the bench, Isabeau pulled herself away from the man, angrily stomping her way back towards the Villa to escape his lunacy. Just as she noticed Cullen watching from the veranda, Sebastian caught her arm and turned her to face him instead.

"Once I retake Starkhaven I can provide you with _legions _of men, Isabeau. I am _aware_ of how thin the Inquisition's forces are currently stretched; meaning your enemies are as well." Sebastian gulped in a breath as he searched her eyes imploringly, his grip on her arm tightening as he moved himself closer beside her, "As _husband and wife_, a Vael-Trevelyan alliance could exponentially improve your organizations standing and offer you a greater modicum of security."

Before Isabeau could sputter a reply in her shock, Cullen had made his way down the stairs and strode through the gardens towards them. As he came to stop at Isabeau's side, he looked down at Sebastian's hand still clutching her arm, sternly turning his gaze to the Prince.

"You will _remove_ that hand, Lord Vael."

"This does not concern you, _templar_."

Cullen folded his arms across his chest as he and Sebastian's eyes locked, "You are manhandling my Inquisitor. It very much _concerns_ me, good Prince." His hand went down to rest upon the pommel of the sword on his hip, "Shall I do it for you?"

"Stop it," Isabeau suddenly breathed as she pulled away from Sebastian's grasp, stepping back and away from the two men before her. She groaned inwardly as the awkwardness of the scene consumed her, in no way desiring the exchange to end bloodily. "Your... _request _is one I cannot currently abide, Prince Sebastian. Abandon this folly and retake your city. Once you are firmly seated upon its throne, I may _consider_ a future alliance... of sorts. That day is_ not_ today, however."

With a deep bow and an even deeper scowl, Sebastian fluidly bowed, "Very well, Lady Trevelyan. Ser Cullen."

Isabeau watched as he marched angrily back towards the Villa, tilting her head back once he was out of sight to erupt with a great cry of frustration at the darkening sky.

"What did he want?"

She turned to face Cullen, not entirely sure how she felt about his interruption of her and Sebastian's meeting. "He... he apologised."

The knight nodded knowingly, "An... honorable gesture."

"He proposed, too."

Watching Cullen visibly stiffen, Isabeau sighed and made her way back towards the Villa, Cullen silently following as she steered them away from the busy atrium. As they walked through the various hallways towards Isabeau's own bed chambers, Cullen's silence continued to unsettle her, its weight heavy between them as she beckoned him into her room. A sense of guilt added itself to her myriad of emotions as she rued abandoning her mother to the throng.

"Sebastian tried to make amends... before he proceeded in his attempts to _persuade_ me with armies for the Inquisition." She paused as she turned to pointedly stare at Cullen, "What say you?" she finally asked her Marhsall as she meandered over to her decanters of wine, forgoing a goblet to bring the neck of the glass vessel to her lips. As she drank, she watched Cullen's face darken in thought, her paramour crossing his arms as he shifted his weight and considered his answer.

"The... Organization _could_ use the bolster to its numbers," he began slowly, carefully raising his eyes to meet Isabeau's awaiting gaze, "Though I confess to desiring the acquisition through... different methods."

"That would make two of us," Isabeau groaned as she took a final swig before setting the decanter back down, her hand lingering on the table top as she idly traced the grooves of the wood with her fingertips. "The _reality_ is an assured reliance with Starkhaven would allot us a significant amount of men. Ostwick and Markham would follow not far behind in the wake of... a Vael marrying a Trevelyan."

"You're... _considering_ it?"

Isabeau cringed at the astonishment behind Cullen's voice, "I'm... not sure I'm doing anything of the sort. I merely am admitting the possible advantages... and benefits to both the Inquisition and, as a result, Thedas." She turned to lean back against the table's edge, pressing her behind into it to steady her slanting figure as she hugged herself tightly, "I... cannot deny it is from a sense of selfish bitterness that I hesitate. The logic behind his intentions is not... wrong."

"It is," Cullen urged as he stepped towards her, his hands gently gripping her shoulders, "You are under a great deal of pressure and have had little rest from the onslaught. I'm begging you to not be hasty; we may yet win Starkhaven's forces once calmer heads prevail."

Averting her gaze from his, Isabeau stared at the rushes upon the floor as her face heated. "I am the Inquisitor... but I am a _noble_ first, Cullen. This is the reality of _both_ my stations; one I regrettably knew would complicate what we... what we have." Desperately her eyes rose to search his as she felt herself slipping further into her melancholy, "Do I deny Thedas a fighting chance against the abyss... because my pride and silly heart could not relinquish their affections for you?"

The templar sniffed in derision as he pulled away from her, moving to her side to pour himself a drink. Rather than wine, he clutched an ornate bottle of Hercinian rum above his glass, reaching and knocking back the dark spirit in one great gulp. After taking several steadying breaths, Cullen moved to sink into one of the chairs in the middle of the room.

"Is it so silly?" he asked, Isabeau's chest aching at the smallness of his voice.

She moved to the chair he sat upon as Cullen buried his face in his hands, his fingers raking against his hair line as Isabeau lowered herself into his lap, "I do not say it mockingly... nor lightly, love. I have... been presented with an opportunity _we_, as the Inquisition, cannot turn away casually. Speak to me... as my advisor, for it's what I need to hear right now."

Cullen looked up at her from beneath his brow, a shaky breath working its way out as his arms came to wrap around Isabeau's waist, "On this... I cannot advise you, Isabeau. I will not risk disrespecting you with my petulance; I will trust and accept... whatever you decide."

Isabeau planted a soft kiss to his forehead, desperately wanting to placate her beleaguered knight through the torrent of other emotions and anxieties. "There is still time... I still yet need to grieve my father and arrange the care of the Trevelyan household in my absence. I meant what I said to Sebastian; this... is not a decision to be made until he has secured his throne."

Gently pushing Isabeau off of him, Cullen rose and made his way for the chamber door, turning to nod silently at Isabeau before he quickly ventured from the room. A great gasp of agony overtook Isabeau the instant he was out of sight, panic searing through her as she slowly sank down to the floor and clutched herself tightly. The gasping breaths shook through her as she curled up into a tight ball amongst the rushes, her hands furiously wiping at the unending tears that infuriatingly plagued her swollen and red cheeks. The weight of her quest, the loss of her father, and the ugly remainders of her torture at Ser Karras' hands threatened to suffocate Isabeau; an all-encompassing terror trapping her as she considered what surrendering her affections for Cullen would mean.

At the thought of Cullen, she squeezed her eyes shut tightly as she rolled onto her back and clutched at her chest, her breathing finally slowing as she tried to calm her rampant insecurities. Despite the love they once shared and the potential benefits to her combined forces, Isabeau did not look upon potential nuptials with the Prince of Starkhaven warmly. Marriage had been something so incredibly far from Isabeau's mind, that even with the growing intimacy between her and Cullen, it had simply not been an option to consider. She may be a poor example for a noble, but she had been raised under the laws of the social construct, its expectations not lost on her as she was now forced to face them. If, by some miracle, Isabeau _was_ able to rally greater numbers to her cause, she would not even flirt with considering Sebastian's proposal.

_Except the Inquisition is bleeding across the map._

Given the current state of her forces, she found herself at an agonizing impasse. Perhaps even now, Cullen was in his own chambers considering an amputation from yet another thing he held dear. At that painful thought, she dragged herself off the floor, running both hands through her hair as she scoffed at her emotional dramatics, vaguely cursing the volatility to her temperament as of late. Once she'd stripped off her mourning wear, she climbed into her bed, turning her head to gaze out at the ocean through her window across the way. Missing the feel of Cullen next to her, she shut her eyes as she slipped into a reverie where it was not Sebastian on his knees before her, but a knight with a great lion for his mantle.

_Maker... why couldn't it have been __**him**__?_


	16. Chapter 16

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**Note: Sorry for the delay, friends! This chapter was... tricky to hash out. Couldn't decide where to go with it. Also, SUPER wanna point out the rating guys; I think Bull read too much of Varric's work and wrote this chapter... **

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The cries of her agony that chased him down the hall stung at Cullen's ears, biting at his heels to quicken his pace. The cogs in his head were click, click, clicking with each step as he worked through the onslaught of thoughts, impulsions and fears. His first instinct had been to return to her; his second had demanded his retreat to his own chambers to brood sullenly. The third however, had Cullen determinedly pushing through the various remaining people at the funeral's gathering; his eyes scanning the vast room for a particular glint of armor.

"You looking for Bo?"

Cullen cleared his throat and shook his head at his dwarf companion, Varric having sidled up next to the clearly vexed knight. "Have you seen Prince Sebastian?"

Varric snorted, "Before or after Isabeau knotted his smalls?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Look, Charming... you weren't _privy_ to that man's company like I was – I guess that whole Chantry-chastity bullshit was an act. Always figured he had a thing for Hawke's sister, though..." Varric mused distractedly as he untwisted the cap to his flask, swishing it before downing a sip. "It's a bit overdone, but I can work with a love triangle."

"Oh, to the Void with you!" Cullen groaned exasperatedly, a hand coming to rub at his eyes as he huffed at the leering dwarf. "Where did you last see him?"

"Chatting with Lady Trevelyan, can't say after that."

Cullen nodded and turned to leave as Varric called after him.

"Don't worry, Skirts! It'll be written _tastefully_!"

Shaking his head in further frustration, Cullen's eyes finally caught sight of the Vael Prince's cuirass, politely waiting as he approached the group that surrounded the young Lord. When their eyes met, Sebastian gracefully excused himself to follow Cullen to a secluded balcony, a slight look of wariness lining his handsome features. The striking Prince leaned languidly against the marble balustrade before crossing his arms before his chest, the two men unabashedly sizing the other up.

"I have nothing but respect for you, Ser Cullen. You always had a... fair hand, when it came to Hawke," Sebastian began, breaking their tense silence. "It has been some time; a shame that our reunion must be so... troubled."

Cullen bit the inside of his cheek as he felt a vein in his neck pulse, "Hawke... was a decent man. To meet you again under her Eminence's loss though, is regrettable."

Sebastian perked his eyebrows, "No need to be coy with me, ser Knight; we both know Lord Trevelyan's death is not what I speak of." The rogue shifted his weight as he sighed, scratching at the side of his jaw as he fixated his gaze evenly upon Cullen, "Varric is not, as a rule, a good secret keeper. I was not aware of your _intentions_ towards Isabeau until too late, I'm afraid."

"...Nor I yours," Cullen agreed slowly.

"But you _are_ aware of my proposal?"

As Cullen nodded, Sebastian turned to gaze out over the gardens and expansive sea in the distance. "I have... rued my mistakes, in regards to Isabeau, considerably. I had _hoped_ to rectify both our situations should she have looked kindly upon my profuse apologies..." He sighed and shook his head dejectedly, "...I'm not sure exactly what I had expected."

"The Inquisitor has... a colossal amount of responsibilities. It has been exceptionally trying for her as of late," Cullen awkwardly offered, stepping towards the balcony's railing to share in the view with Sebastian. "I'm... admittedly concerned. To see her distressed by your presence... well, forgive a Knight for his chivalry, My Lord."

A hand loudly clapped against Cullen's shoulder as Sebastian accepted his apology, Cullen startling at the unexpected act. "We have known each other for some time now, Ser Cullen. Formalities are not necessary; I would have you speak candidly and know why you have sought my private council?"

In that moment, when faced with the encroaching precipice, Cullen paused. Could he go behind Isabeau's back and directly disobey her? The selfishness behind his desires clawed at his conscience, tearing at the quickly tattering scrap that was his duty as he considered the potential ramifications of his motives. Alternatively however, Cullen was infuriated at the Prince; his jealousy aside, he found Sebastian's daring unacceptable, insulted for Isabeau at his boorish proposal. Like sinking back into an addiction, Cullen found he was embattled with an old argument he thought he'd long since surrendered. Memories of times he'd spent agonizing over his previous superior's betrayals and their outcomes came rushing back as he felt an odd sense of déjà vu.

_Is this my fate?_

"Ser Cullen?"

He decided to leap, sucking in a steadying breath as he committed to his intentions.

"If... you held any true adoration for Isabeau, you would not blackmail her with this marriage. It is true I have an obvious bias, but, forgive my candor... you _had_ your chance," Cullen began as he pushed away from the balcony to stand at rigid attention next to Sebastian. "You have not been there; it is not your ears and eyes that must swallow her agony and watch her bleed. You torment her with armies like a carriage driver dangles a carrot for his mule. I find it disrespectful, distasteful and unacceptable from a man of your status."

Sebastian sniffed with incredulity as he shook his head aggrievedly, "Well, I suppose I _did_ say to... speak plainly." The young Prince turned to face Cullen with narrowed eyes, "You and I seem to have differing opinions on the interpretation it would seem, Ser Cullen. I'm not sure I appreciate your... veracity."

"I'm sure I don't appreciate yours. As the Inquisition's Marshall, the benefits to your additional forces are _not_ lost on me; it is your _methods_ at negotiation I cannot abide," Cullen growled as he took several steps towards Sebastian, his one fist clenching. Like an itch needing to be scratched, Cullen could not resist his further pursuit of the Prince's conscience, "Did you _ever_ love her? Is she simply a thing for you to use and discard when convenient?"

"You grow too bold, Ser Knight," the Prince warned through his teeth, a hand coming to warningly rest upon the pommel of his dagger. "Perhaps you should tread more carefully with your unbridled_ desires_ for your Inquisitor; for I fear they make you a poor ambassador." Sebastian planted his feet evenly apart as he stood his ground before the armored knight, "I made attempts to amend for my transgressions; am I a scoundrel for following up with an offer of assistance?"

Cullen scoffed loudly.

"An offer with considerable strings attached! You take blatant advantage of her, _serrah_!" Cullen unashamedly pointed an accusing finger at Sebastian, nostrils flared as the air grew thick between the men. "Her father burns on the tide while the weight of Thedas sinks heavier upon her shoulders... and you see _now_ a fit time to proposition her?"

"If you insist on berating me, _Ser_, I would know if I speak to the Inquisitor's advisor... or her lover?" Sebastian seethed bitingly before suddenly coming up to roughly snatch at the collar of Cullen's tunic. "Do _not_ criticize me for _inappropriate conduct_ when you yourself toe the line."

With a great shove to break Sebastian's grasp, Cullen drew his sword and pointed it at the Prince as both men came to slowly walk around the other, blades drawn menacingly. The Prince outstretched his arms tauntingly as he kept a careful distance from the irate templar, tutting as he shook his head back and forth at Cullen.

"Do you deign to kill me, Ser Cullen?"

"No. Whether I like it or not, you and Isabeau are not... wrong to need each other," With a great sigh, Cullen sheathed his sword as he willed his anger from roaring flames to flickering embers. "...Though not in the way you seek. I came to you because, at one time, you were... capable of reason and compassion. I left Kirkwall with scars of my own, but... I will not allow them to mar my honour."

A skeptical eyebrow was raised in reply, Sebastian's blade remaining steadily pointed at the man before him, "Be quick with your words, _Templar_, for my patience is at an end with your dramatics."

"The loss of your family, Elthina, Hawke... Your life has not been without its own suffering, I understand that, _My Lord_. As an advisor _or_ lover however, I... speak truly with care for her; it is what compels me to stand before you now," Cullen's hands came to clasp tightly at his waist, anxiously rubbing as he swallowed his pride. "I am... _begging_ you, as a fellow** Andrastian**... to swallow that pain when in the presence of _hers_ and appreciate the... immense burden she carries," Cullen began slowly, a hand coming to tiredly draw down his face. "As a comrade, a friend... a _lover_; whatever you _were_ or _are_ to her... the** Maker** would see you gift such armies to her _without_ the extortion."

Sebastian held Cullen's glare for several long minutes before finally blinking and turning away, the tension between them noticeably snapped as he exhaled loudly. He sheathed his dagger and shakily stepped further back from Cullen.

"You... have shamed me with my arrogance Ser," The handsome man admitted, sighing in his defeat as he sank upon one of the veranda's numerous _chaise longues_. "You... must understand, as a noble, Isabeau is a _formidable_ match. She... has been in my life for a long time and my misery was great indeed when I thought her dead; to learn of her survival, her great feats and acts of mercy...? As I moved closer to my throne, I could think of no one better."

"Then _honor_ her... and accept your bond as it must now stand. Take back your lands, Sebastian... and _help me_ in lessening the great responsibility she carries for _all_ of us."

Looking up at Cullen thoughtfully, Sebastian rubbed his hands nervously against his leather trousers, "...Answer me one thing?"

Cullen met his gaze before giving a shrug in sceptical consent.

"Amongst the chaos, you found one another... and I have clearly blundered directly into it, ignorant of your union. I... can empathize with your affections for her, as my own have never been far themselves. Unlike you however, I have felt the pain of her death once... is it something you can face, too, Knight?"

His chest clenched tightly as Cullen swallowed before answering, "Yes... _unlike you_, I will face it with her."

Sebastian closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose, tilting his head back before opening his eyes to look up at the darkened sky. "She... will have my armies, Ser Cullen. I... have always felt Andraste smiled upon her cause and, fool that I am, I am no Maferath," he stood and extended his hand out to Cullen, shaking it solidly. "You... remain a _good_ man, Ser Cullen. I am... relived she has you for a Champion."

Cullen nodded solemnly, "Send a raven to Skyhold upon your victory, My Lord. We will arrange an envoy to prepare for your force's integration. You will be a welcomed addition to the Inquisition," Cullen replied respectfully, wanting to ensure they were clear on their agreement.

"You have my word. I have several platoons of men currently outside Hercinia; I will assign some of them to your command... as a deposit for our future investments."

Cullen felt an immense weight lift from his shoulders as an abrupt sense of respect for the exiled Prince coursed through him. "I am grateful you remain a reasonable man, My Lord. I am glad we were... able to amicably negotiate."

Sebastian nodded his head in acquiescence, "Farewell, Ser Cullen. Perhaps, at the end of it all, we can be there with her... together."

Relief and a secret sense of awe washed over Cullen as the Prince left him alone there on the balcony. Admittedly, Cullen had been wary of his rebellious intentions, hesitant in his ability to sway the determined Prince of Starkhaven. There was a sweet succor to be found in seeing his anguish proved wrong, the undeniable boost to Cullen's will and determination welcomed after the constant doubt. Long ago now he had relinquished his badgering conscience over the poor timing of his and the Inquisitor's affair; it was selfish, yes, but Cullen did not question Isabeau's love even _if_ she had been considering Sebastian's offer. If there was one thing Cullen could believe in as they navigated the abyss, it was Isabeau being at his side.

_And it is something, for better or worse, I cannot be without._

His mind made up, Cullen walked through the now sparse collection of guests, following his steps back to Isabeau's chambers. As he gently pushed the door open and popped his head in, he saw her curled up tightly upon her bed. Closing the door quietly behind him, Cullen silently stripped out of his armor and clothes, perhaps a bit reckless in his actions as he climbed into bed beside her. His hand gently pulled back the hair from her face; his eyes softening sadly as he took in her swollen and still damp features.

As his lips trailed soft kisses from behind her scarred ear and down her long and slender neck, Isabeau stirred next to him, moaning in surprise of the knight's unexpected affections. Cullen smiled warmly as she turned to face him, her red rimmed eyes meeting his as they wrapped their arms around each other. He buried his face deep between her neck and shoulder, groaning in relief as they encompassed one another.

"Not... afraid of my mother's wrath?" Isabeau whispered teasingly, Cullen answering with a deep kiss, his tongue seeking her own as her body pressed tightly against his. When he finally broke their connection, he leaned back to gently run his fingers through her hair, smiling at her fondly.

"In this moment? No," he replied softly as he gently pressed a kiss at the corner of her mouth. "If I am truthful... it is your _own_ I am wary of right now."

Isabeau quirked an eyebrow at Cullen worriedly, "I do not think I can revisit _that_ conversation again tonight, love... be merciful."

Squeezing his eyes shut at the weight of her words, Cullen took a steadying breath before looking up her intent gaze again, "I... sought Sebastian and we have come to... an agreement." As Isabeau's eyes widened indignantly, he hurried on, "I could not bear it, Isabeau. Forgive my selfishness but it... was not in me to accept _that_... as a viable solution."

Isabeau disentangled herself from him to sit up against the large bed's headboard, her face cross as she stared at Cullen, "Am I little more than something to be _bartered _with? You tell me one thing and then turn around and do the exact opposite!" She sighed heavily as a hand slowly ran through her hair, "What happened to _trusting_ me, Ser?"

"I never wavered in it. Prince Sebastian has committed his forces to you; we will leave Hercinia with several of his own platoons in guarantee," Cullen entreated quickly, sitting up to tentatively put his arm around her shoulders. "You told me you needed your advisor... No matter the affections that may influence my intentions, I have not shied from my role in my actions. If there was compromise to be found, I purposefully sought it."

A heavy silence hung between them as Isabeau appeared to mull over the turn of events, "And... had I _wanted_ to marry Sebastian?"

Cullen swallowed deeply as he shook his head, "Forgive me, my lady... but I knew it in my heart to not ever be so."

After several tense minutes, a gentle smile split Isabeau's features as she sank deeper into Cullen's embrace; her lips finding the crook of his neck as she pressed herself closer. "I confess... to being more astonished than wrathful, love. Sebastian was _very_ adamant in his intent, while you appeared... ready to accept his proposal; I was not sure what to think."

An odd sense of relief coursed through him, "I... am _learning_ whento fight for what I believe in, my lady." Cullen offered as he pressed his lips to the top of her head, a hand coming to pet her wavy, pale lengths. "Paramour or advisor, I will not watch a lady coerced; you will have the mercies you deserve as long as I remain at your side."

Isabeau looked up at him over her brow before she swung herself over to straddle his lap, her hands grasping the bottom of her chemise as she pulled it over her head. Cullen smiled in satisfaction as he leaned forward to bury his face in her ample chest, arms wrapping around her thick waist as he licked and nibbled. She leaned down and interrupted his affections, kissing him hungrily as she ground her groin into his.

"Thank you... for being my lion, in _all_ things," she breathed huskily as she trailed wet kisses along his jaw, her hands raking their nails down his abdomen as he pressed his length against her smalls. With a coy smile, she climbed off of the burly knight and began to seductively tease at the cords of her smalls, turning her back to him as she inched the fabric further down her ass. His hand went to grip himself as the flimsy covering slid down her legs to the floor, the view Isabeau sharing incredibly erotic as she bent over and leaned back in a great stretch. Cullen appreciated the woman's impressive back muscles as she wantonly climbed onto the bed, looking over her shoulder to smile at him beckoningly.

_Oh, Maker..._

With an audible groan, Cullen hastily came up behind her to slide himself deep between her legs. Isabeau cried out into the mattress, muffling the sound as she leaned forward, her ass high in the air, Cullen's ensuing thrusts pushing her down deeper. The Knight revelled in the sight of her, his hands coming to spread her cheeks further as he unabashedly pounded into her; stifled moans erupting from Isabeau only serving to quicken his pace. When the sensations approached their crescendo, Isabeau leaned back suddenly, her back pressing into Cullen's stomach as he quickly readjusted. After tumbling backwards on the bed, Isabeau's legs bent at the knee in the air, the couple bit their lips as they fought to silence their pleasure at their combined releases.

Isabeau languidly stretched atop Cullen afterwards, naughtily arching her back so her ass pressed against his groin, before she rolled over and returned to her side of the mattress. Cullen willed his breathing to even before turning his head to the side, smirking ruefully at Isabeau's flushed face.

"You _did_ say 'a lion in **all** things'," he mischievously argued, Isabeau giving him a playful shove as she came to lie across his chest, Cullen holding her tightly against him. With great effort to release his worries as she pressed warmly against him, Cullen had soon closed his eyes and drifted into a troubled sleep.


End file.
